I was checking some old Facebook messages, trying to remember some girls and the location I Facebook-closed them, besided cringing at how I’d communicate with them.
One of my first Facebook-close was a Trinidad & Tobago girl named Kristina. At that time, she would have been a 9 for me, now she’d be a 7 or less.
The approach must have been the ‘if I weren’t gay, you’d be my girlfriend,’ delivered with high energy, coming from a very motivated guy who’d just learnt that with a few canned-openers, a piece of peacocking and a few DHV-Stories, I could approach any group of girls and walk out with the hottest one around my arm, while the second hottest would betray her long-term friend and slyly slid her number into this great guy’s pocket.
From my perspective then, Kristina and I had had a great moment together, connecting our souls and bonding like in a romance film, but perhaps she failed to share the same enthusiasm towards the guy she’d spent some time laughing with during a drunken-girls’ night out.
I remember being amazed by Kristina’s cheeky smile and elusiveness, while I would try to i) extract her; ii) kiss her; iii) take her number. Eventually she threw me a bone and gave me her Facebook name, and I added her on the spot (in case I lost my phone or something).
For the record, this was before I met the RSG guys.
After a few days, and dozens of drafts, I concluded that the best way to reach out to her would be through the following message:
Hello Kristina, how’s your week so far? Hope it’s going well!
Can i have your number, please? I’m planning to go to “The Lost Society” next Sunday and i’d like you to come along, but you’ll have to promise to be a good girl..!
Thanks Trini x x x
PS: Who do you think would win in a race between Daffy Duck vs Donald Duck?
Everything I had learnt about Game had been summed into one message. You have the positive energy the bold invitation which takes charge of the plans, followed by a playful vibe that says ‘you’ll have to promise…’.
In case she didn’t want to talk about her week, or give me her number, nor go to The Lost Society on Sunday or if she wouldn’t be a good girl, I still wanted her to reply, therefore I inserted the Daffy vs Donald Duck question.
She never replied.
Anyone reading that message can see it comes from a guy begging for an answer, meaning she had way more value than I did, at that time.
Looking at other extracts today, I noticed I would always try to force a playful vibe, as to avoid a boring conversation, but it wouldn’t sound natural. As consequence, I would run out of gimmicks, my targets would run out of patience.
The fake-it-till-you-make-it won’t last but for a few hours. Texting was never my strongest skill, but it’s improved a hundred fold, hence I get replies, dates, F-Bombings and a few short to mid-term relationships.
An oversimplified analysis is that I’m more genuine. Likewise, I’m a better human being, as a consequence, it’s easier to be genuine and show a more attracting personality.
I remember being frustrated sometimes, even as an advanced PUA (I don’t relate to this term anymore) for always being a few messages away from getting that super-hot girl, but I wasn’t communicating well enough with them. That’s why a lot of people find easier picking up drunk chicks at a nightclub, because they don’t need to restart asking about Daffy Duck the next day.
Six years have gone by and I wonder whether I should text Kristina again. Something along this line:
Fuck this shit! I’ve decided to become rich. Only by working at my company is not the way to do it, so I’ve decided to take on a new endeavour and become a poker player!
I haven’t made that much money, but I’m a winner in live cash games, averaging 8/10 (eight winning sessions out of ten), averaging 170% ROI. Yet, I want to make it to the big games, travel the world in tournaments and cash games, be able to live wherever the hell I damn please, while my small company in Brazil makes me a little bit more of money.
To accomplish that, I’ve joined a team. They are going to teach me classes and I am going to give them 50% of my winnings, until we reach a certain amount. It’s a fair deal, since they are showing me the secrets to making money. The exchange Euro to BRL is beneficial to me too.
After two weeks of training, I can already notice some changes, but it’s going to take me about nine months to see some significant results.
This feels a lot like when I met the RSG Bastards, and the results of that meeting have been nothing short of spectacular. I’ve F-Bombed well over 150 women, being them models, strippers, teachers, two famous dancers, among many others. It will be no different in this new journey.
Can you imagine a sophisticated man who is really good with women and can do fairly well in the cards-rooms? They should make a film about this man, as in he drinks martini while he is in a mission and needs to win a game…
We will call him Loser – he is. At 36, all he has accomplished is to have finished his college degree (last year) and has the ability to work out for four hours a day, even though his body doesn’t show. Living with his parents, he never had to work to buy any of the many cars he has had. When he told his mum he wanted to start riding a bike, she promptly offered to pay for his insurance (which is very expensive in Brazil), should something happen to his BMW motorcycle.
He is a whiny leftist too, who ‘fights’ for the minorities.
We became friends through a mutual girl-friend at a house party, in 2012. Upon deciding to hit a local nightclub later that night, I showed him how to approach a group of girls and he got obsessed with me, and wanted to be my friend at any cost.
I never actually saw him picking any girls up, but he’d always tell me he did. About two years ago he texted me and some other friends saying that he was in a serious relationship and had to delete his Facebook, Whatsapp, etc. Loser simply disappeared… until recently.
Loser reactivated his Facebook account and got in touch, inviting me for a beer, which he insisted to buy. There, he told me how he’d broken up with his girlfriend because she was a mental girl who wanted to control and force him to stay away from all his friends, that she would slap and scratch him if he didn’t comply to her wishes. He also told me he started taking Jiu Jitsu. This was in January 2016. Since then, he’d often invite me out for a beer and would insist on paying – almost as a bribe for his dull companionship.
Around October, I met a girl at a nightclub and brought her back home. After F-Bombing her in all forms you can possibly imagine (like a whore), I suggested we had a threesome with another girl. On the very next day she had a friend lined up, which we took to a bar and to a Motel after. What a resourceful girl this Nightclub Pick Up turned out to be. I decided to let her come visit sometimes; we’d drink, fuck and then she’d take a Uber back home. Even though she was short and cute, I didn’t like her spending the night because she was a nester, besides being a little bit mental. Still, she was the giver of the best (maybe second best) blowjob I’ve ever had.
One night she texted me asking if she could come over; I told her I wouldn’t want to see her anymore because I was going out with some other girl. Nightclub Pick Up then took a Uber to my doorstep, rang the bell and asked if we could talk. Even though I found that weird, I still talked to her, outside, and politely told her to fuck off. Because of her attitude of knocking on my door, I blocked her from all social medias.
It was two months ago that Loser and I had just stepped into a bar when it all happened. Nightclub Pick Up was standing in a corner near the entrance, surrounded by her girlfriends. She was looking at our direction in awe; I pointed a finger at her, with a smile on my face, as if saying ‘I see you,’ but continued walking towards the inside of the bar; Nightclub Pick Up, still with a shocked look on her face, waved back in response; Loser, who was right behind me, asked, ‘let’s go to another bar? My ex girlfriend is here.’
So we turned around and left.
Outside, I received a message saying ‘I never imagined you’d run from me,‘ from an unsaved number. I looked at Loser and he too was reading a message he’d just received. I was laughing inside, trying to control it, thinking of the shocking look she had on her face when she saw both of us walking in together.
The dilemma then was whether I should tell him, and I opted to do so, because I figured it’d be worse if he found out later through some cunning tactics Mental Nightclub Pick Up could apply.
Since there is no easy way of doing this, I told him plainly, when we were driving towards some other bar.
‘Look, I’ve been out with this girl a few times, but I would never have imagined she was your ex.’
Then I showed him the messages she had just sent, and how she was not even saved in my contact list. He asked me when it happened and then he said, that he wanted to go home.
‘I don’t like fucking ex-girlfriends,’ He stated in a crying voice.
‘Alright,’ I replied, ‘I’ll drop you off. I understand you are upset, but this was non-intentional and you can’t blame me for it.‘
If the same had happened to me, I would have said something like, ‘she gives good head, doesn’t she?’ and forget about it all. Or maybe even send her a photo of us both, asking ‘which one did you like better?’ or even ‘whose dick is bigger?’ But Loser was almost crying over a crazy ex, while riding in my car.
I dropped him off.
On the next day, I messaged him to ask how he was doing; he had already blocked me from Facebook and Whatsapp. He told our mutual friend that the problem is with him (obviously) but he feels like punching me. I’d like to have him try. Although he is bigger and stronger, he’d be very slow. Him having taken only BJJ wouldn’t be enough to take on me. I’d lower my base and try to connect an upper cut, if he went for my legs. If he managed to take me down, I’d try to tire him before attempting a sweep or submission. I am comfortable fighting from my back.
We met again, by chance. I was upstairs at a bar on a first date when he walked up to use the toilet. He must have heard my voice because he turned to look at my direction. I was laughing at a joke I had just made when I saw him, fist clenched staring at me. As we locked eyes, I nodded at him, a nod that said both ‘hey there’ and ‘bring it on’. Loser looked away and waited for his turn to use the toilet. I was wondering if he’d have the courage to charge at me when he walked out.
After he finished using the toilet, he walked down, carefully looking at his shoes.
I’ve always thought that game is something you do well when you’re travelling or living away from your hometown. I used to do alright in London, even though my concepts were still being molded; it was when I began having a breakdown and decided to come back to Brazil. My DHVs weren’t congruent. I used to work as a carpet fitter, but would go to nightclubs in Mayfair, or fancy bars like Milk & Honey. It was a big deal for me, at that time. In order to hide my profession, I’d tell people that I was a life-coach, which is one of the lamest thing a person can claim to be. You need someone to coach you how to live…? I now have great pride in telling people I worked installing carpet, a skilled job that requires ability and expertise. I would make people’s homes look better and more comfortable, by the work of my hands.
Getting a coach for game is a different matter, and if it weren’t for the help I got from my RSG friends, I would never have gotten the success I’ve achieved, having F-Bombed dancers who are on national television (more than one), teachers, students, strippers, virgins, librarians, etc.
Back in Brazil, the breakdown happened because I was no longer the foreigner with a cool accent. I was merely a Brazilian person among 189.999.999 other Brazilians. Nobody would ask me where I was from. My DHVs about playing football on the streets would have no effects here. Of course I could talk about my 11 year experience living abroad, but the first few times I tried, it would feel like bragging, especially if brought up early in the conversation.
Game teaches you how to show the opposite sex you are a high-value person.
When I went to the Sex Island, I was once again the different guy; bald, tall and less tanned, bringing a sexy, different Sao Paulo accent, my stocks were very high. Everyone’s got a friend who’s travelled many places, is confident, has a successful career, can defend himself, protects his family and friends, but cannot translate that into getting skirts. We see celebrities marrying women (not girls) whom many would score as high 7s. I saw Rodrigo Minotauro’s former girlfriend when he was at his peak. She was just plain. (Now he’s dating a hot model.) The same goes to Ronaldinho’s girlfriend.
Game teaches you how to show the opposite sex you are a high-value person. At first, we fake it. That was me in London and in my first two years in Brazil. Changing your core takes time and people often stop halfway through it; some even settle for a slightly hotter girlfriend before the upgrade is completed. Others get addicted to bootcamps.
Although Game itself is better played away, in your hometown you can build a tight social circle that you can use in your favour. I take my dates to three bars where staff know me and will greet me with a smile. Sometimes I take a hotter girl to where I play poker – a mansion with swimming pool, a nice outdoor areas and a bar. Players and dealers will come talk to me, respectfully. It emulates the restaurant scene in Goodfellas, where Ray Liotta leads the girl through the kitchen.
Whereas on the Sex Island I’d feel comfortable going out to a club on my own, and would often pick up a girl and bring her home, in my city I pick up less, but the effect on the girls is much deeper. They are often in awe with my lifestyle and want a long-term relationship.
In this post I will talk about: how I picked up one of the sexiest girl I’ve ever been with; Escalation Game.
I nicknamed her Dorothy, from the Wizard of Oz. She is 24 years old, about 1,50 tall (according to her – I think she’s 1,48 max), weighs no more than 45 kg [I’ve found out, she weighs 37kg]. Her sking is slightly tanned, like Eva Longoria, she is short with straight hair, small, perky breasts and a tiny ass to die for. She is 10/10 my type of girl. I like other types too, but similar to her, I have been with two others in my whole life – both became long-term girls, one before game, one post-game.
It’s a compatibility difficult to fathom. I am 1,82, weighing 84 kg and it seems like I would break her in two, literally, during sex, and would be able to stick half of my penis into them. But no, those types are built for sex. They get their pleasure from their wombs being pushed-in hard. They bear the pain and get off from it. It’s like the perfect gene-match, that’s why the attraction is electrifying, almost tangible.
This year I’ve been focusing less on Game and more both on my business and on playing poker, especially in the first three months.
I went through a dry-spell, mostly because I would cancel dates to go play a tournament on the weekends. One day I even took a girl out and talked about poker for most of it. I still got the lay.
Therefore I decided to set up a much better Tinder profile and I found out that the description is key to not only match with the 8s and 9s, but have them to message me first. (More on that soon).
Since my strongest asset is end-game, this internet thing works well for me.
I was in a city, one hour away from where I live, at my aunt’s house, where she cooked feijoada and I was making caipirinhas when Dorothy super-liked me and soon after sent me the first message. She looks gorgeous. While my text-game isn’t as good as Nick’s, Jimmy’s or Burto’s, it is still way better than average, enough to keep the conversation light and the girl engaged once they are hooked. We talked about various things on Tinder, for the first two days, and then we exchange numbers. I was always teasing her and she would respond really well, always following my leads.
I tried to get her to Campinas, but she said she wouldn’t be comfortable coming. It was Saturday afternoon when she asked me ‘why can’t you come to me instead?‘ so I set to find an excuse to be at her city.
‘Well, I do have a family event in your city tomorrow, so maybe I could go tonight and just stay till tomorrow.’
She responded by sending me a list of bars we could go to, and very deferring, she asked what kind of places I enjoyed going.
I pick her up 23:00 and took her to a live-music bar, where we sat at a table outside. It was mildly cold, but bearable without any jackets. Lots of people were judgmentally staring at me. When I pointed that out to Dorothy, she said it was because she is so tiny, they think she’s 15. Since we were both drinking, smoking and flirting, people probably thought of me as a nonse who would give cigs and booze to a minor. Maybe not concerned, maybe they were jealous. Good thing I wasn’t driving a van.
I arranged my self to sit at a 45 degree. I sat back with my legs pointing away from her, legs crossed, so my head would have to be slightly turned to face Dorothy. She sat facing me, her legs pointing at me. She was leaning towards me. Later, when I returned from the toilet, I noticed she had moved her chair slightly closer to mine.
Dorothy likes speed, guns and danger, so my stories were about: a car accident I had in Florida and how everyone came out unscathed – it involved a party, a friend and two girls; about martial arts and how much that helps me make decisions in life; about my trips to the Amazon Forest; about living in London and organizing fashion parties.
Whilst she wasn’t giving many obvious IOIs, I noticed one, specifically, that said she wanted to fuck me. She was wearing a sleeveless blouse, and she would often raise one of her arms to flinch her hair We all know that armpit display is a strong sign the girl is attracted. She raised both of her arms, but she didn’t touch her hair. Instead, they were just raised in display while she was looking away. She looked so fresh!
We all have our peculiarities. Me, I won’t date a girl if her armpits are dark, creased or for some particular reason don’t look good to me. Hers were gorgeous and it made her that much more attractive.
My escalation is simple, lean and efficient – natural. I wait for a point in the conversation where we are both conspiring, smiling or laughing at the same thing, I then grab one of the girl’s hand and hold it, playing with it or interlocking fingers, resting on the table or on one of her legs. It’s a level achievement. Once you got this, you can grab or release at will.
Held-hand-escalation is way better than asking the girl to pull your finger so you can spin her while she bites you ankle, allowing you to twist her arm to get a kiss.
Sometimes girls will need their hand back and will be shy to grab yours again. If it’s resting on the table, you don’t want to leave them there, begging for her hand back. Make sure you keep your hand busy too, by grabbing your glass, for example. I will often break contact before she does, if I need to.
While it looks very simple, there are important points to be considered.
I always keep my hand under hers, so girls know they can pull back – normally they won’t;
I never want to hold the back of her hand, like grannies do – unless fingers are interlocked to emulate spooning;
I don’t change my BL to hold her hand – it’d be like coming out of my way. I continue sitting back, relaxed;
My grip will be looser than hers for most of the time, but I will squeeze her hand and wrist every so often to show dominance.
You gain so much rapport from it. It’s what couples (boyfriend & girlfriend) do. They don’t make out all the time; they hold hands. It reinforces your bubble – or creates it.
From there, I grabbed hold of both Dorothy’s hands, teased her so she would give me a reaction, pulled her in, Eskimo-kiss-closed her then pulled back. The kiss was on. Another level achieved. I could kiss her anytime now. I liked to wait.
Extraction was simple. Once we were in my car, I asked her if she’d like to continue drinking, to which she replied she wanted to eat. I suggested going to a love-motel where there were drinks and food and we could rest some. Before she could say ‘OK,’ I turned the engine on…
We had teased so much prior to the motel that it took me more than 30 minutes to get seduction on. She was so hyper, turning on the Jacuzzi (fully clothed), exploring the room and choosing the music. But once we started escalating, there were sparks all over. Clothes were off, I lied her down while I kissed her body. When I got to her nipples, she moaned with pleasure. Hands everywhere – what a body! She came as soon as I penetrated her. I thought she wouldn’t be able to take the whole thing, but she did.
“You hurt me a bit“, she said in a complementary tone. I pounded her harder. I would pick her up, spin her around, slap her tiny little ass, because I wanted to hear her moan from a different angle. She was biting the pillow and scratching my arms.
It was like she was possessed by the devil.
If there were any soul connection at all, it was overshadowed by the physical connection. We were two sluts seeking pleasure from one another.
While Casinos are banned in Brazil, Poker is not, since our government don’t consider it to be gambling (and I agree), therefore there are Poker Houses in the main big centres, many holding one tournament a day (mostly in the evening) and some ring games.
The game is Texas Hold’em, 60 reais Buy-In for the tournament, 4K Pay-Out guaranteed. Re-entries are allowed until the 8th level of blinds.
Blinds are around 1K – 2K with ante of 100. In essence, the game is mildly tight. There are 37 players left, out of 64 (with 130+ re-entries). Only the best ten players get paid.
I am the Big Blind when one aggressive bully opens with 4K, guy to his left calls, everyone folds it to me and I also call with Q2, because of the odds. The Flop comes:
T (10) 4 2 rainbow:
I flop the small pair. I check, Bully checks, other guy checks. I figure nobody has the T, and they wouldn’t open pre-flop with a 4 or a 2. (Bully and I are chip leaders with a little less than 100K each).
The Turn comes another blank: a 6.
Bully bets 8K, guy to his left folds and I call. It’s two-handed now.
The river comes another T.
I’m first to say, so I check. The pot has about 30K. The bully reaches his chips and bets 18K.
All I am thinking is he doesn’t have the T, or else he would have C-Bet on the flop. What could he possibly have? I am thinking a bluff. He could also have a pair like 33 to 77, but why would he not C-Bet the Flop to see where he was at? He then over-bets the Turn and similarly the River.
As I was playing back the whole hand in my mind, up to that moment, I looked down to my chips and, as I reached them, I quickly turned my head and looked at the Bully. His face changed only so slightly. While I played with the 18K chips in my hand, I proceeded to staring at him, and then called.
He presented A 7 of Spades. My paired 2 was good and I won the pot.
Praises came from all sides while I organized my chips.
I went on to eliminate this very same player at the final table. He fell in 5th place. When there were three players left (after nine hours of playing), a deal was made and we split the pot equally among us three.
Each of us three got more than twice as much as the 4th place, three times more than the 5th and well over twenty times our investment.