My Last Post: Why I’m Quitting Blogging

Here lies LaidNYC, we hardly knew ye.  Square jaw, sharp tongue, and rumor has it he was that guy from Nantucket.

I’m done blogging.  If  you liked my writing, consider donating.

I may start a new project in the future, I may not.  But if you want to be posted if I do, you should sign up for my mailing list. (Sorry the link opens on a new page.  Apparently you can’t embed a form into a wordpress hosted blog post)

Oh, and since guys who know this kind of thing tell me more people will sign up for your email list if you offer something for free, you’ll get some nice goodies when you sign up:

A free report I wrote last year on approach anxiety (5 pages)

- The LaidNYC Vault, (606 pages) a pdf file that contains every post on this blog

All of my tweets in a pdf file (361 pages) (I’ve deleted the archive and will delete the account soon)

- A pdf of all my wisdom (39 pages) (account also now deleted)

-The “Ten Laws of Finding Your Mission” (15 pages), an ebook that I wrote, gave away for like a week and then took down.  Reviewed here by Matt Forney.  Also reviewed by Free Northerner.

You’ll get all that, which is pretty much everything I’ve ever written under the LaidNYC name, just for getting on my mailing list, which I may never email, Completely Free.

Okay, wait, lets backdafuckup.  Why am I retiring this blog and moniker?  Many reasons.  Here it goes:

My writing has gone downhill.  You are no doubt an adoring fan who hasn’t noticed anything negative about me but I believe if you go through my archive you’ll see that most of my best posts are from months and months ago.  Traffic has risen steadily, but that’s not necessarily a metric of quality.  My three favorite posts of mine are all from last summer.  Yeah, yeah, I can still articulate and turn a phrase as well as a wily jew, but my subject matter has been largely derivative.  I’ve been posting just to post, not bringing elite value.  I lost the fire.

I’m sick of anonymity.  In the ugly-truth-tell-o-sphere, the case for using a psuedonym is rock solid.  It’s just a pain in the ass (and as far as pen names go, LaidNYC is no Mark Twain, I cringe just looking at my pseudonym).  The next work I pen will be under my real name.  I am a proud man and I’d like credit for the delicious bon mots that I craft.

I’m sick of writing about feminism.  Feminism is anti-civilization and a destroyer of beauty, as valid an enemy as there is.  I’m just tired of using my brainpower on it.  My best trafficked posts are always the anti-feminist screeds and that disappoints me.  It’s good writing, just not really something I want to be known for.

I don’t think about game much anymore.  Obviously I will still use game in my daily life forever, but if you’re trying to attain  mastery, guys who are in the field making their bones (heh) are who you should listen to.  I’m in a relationship now (top that, motherfuckers!), so I’m not your best source on game, I don’t have the edge of urgency.  Last week I listened to my manosphereradio interview from last summer, and it is all good information that I still largely believe in, but I was just a completely different person then.  I’m in a different place now.  As far as the relationship: A lot of guys in the ‘sphere hate on monogamy, but different strokes.  I screened well, I’m pairbonded, I like it and I’m gonna see where it leads.  Come on now, you’ve read my stuff, does anyone honestly think I can’t handle a relationship without getting played? Bitch please.

I’m culling my technology usage.  I’ve spent way too much of my life in front of screens and its going to stop. I need to get rid of my stimulation-seeking popcorn brain.  I’m not an internet addict or anything, but social media is definitely a prudent thing to cut.  My twitter is getting deleted this week.  I can catch up on twitter a month from now just by checking a handful of guy’s feeds, and I don’t even need an account to do that.  Besides work related things, once a day email checking, and checking my Feedly once a week, I won’t be surfing the web until after the summer, at least.  This more than anything is biggest reason I’m quitting.

This blog is small potatoes.  The bigger I dream, the smaller this blog seems.  Its just a non-profitable time waster.  So why not monetize?  Well, I had an ebook on game almost completed, around 120 pages of mostly new content at the last draft, then I just fucking deleted it.  I’m not putting out some game product just to make a quick thousand or two on launch, then get essentially handcuffed into continuing my blog just so I can keep selling products at ten bucks a pop here and there.  I am NOT hating on anybody who sells things on their blog:  it is just not for me at this time.

The show will go on.  The Mount Rushmore guys of the manosphere are still standing, there are great websites and podcasts out there, and it seems like more keep popping up.  Fight Club has moved out of the basement and its Project Mayhem now.  I am not special.


Why not just keep the blog/twitter and post in a few months if the mood strikes?  Aren’t you being a little dramatic?

Probably, but I like the idea of a clean break.  It’s freeing.  We can still be friends though.

Are you going to delete the blog?

I won’t scorch the earth but I’m not going to stop anything from happening to it, either.  I probably just won’t log in anymore.

So what are you going to do now?

You mean other than work, hang out with my friends and girlfriend and enjoy life outside the internet?  Glad you asked.

First, I’m taking the time/creative energy I put into pickup and manosphere stuff and putting it into a few business opportunities.  I can’t go into details here, obviously.

Second, I’m putting more effort into fitness/health.  Making sure to get gym time in, preparing paleo meals instead of ordering from Seamless, juicing, etc.  This stuff takes time.  As eye candy, I bear a certain responsibility to the world to be in my best shape for the summer.

Finally, I will continue to allot myself some time to write.  Only it will be with a pen, paper and a clear mind rather than tabbing back and forth between twitter and a wordpress draft.  I don’t know where its gonna lead but I have a few ideas and if you want to be kept posted, definitely sign up for my email list. If I do launch a new project it would benefit from a ready audience.  I won’t spam this list.  In fact, as it stands right now I may never actually email this list.  But if you like my writing you’ll probably want to be on it just in case.

So there you have it.  If you want to get at me for any personal or professional reason, I will continue to check my account.  There are some good people out there so don’t be surprised if I contact some of you in the future as well.  There are at least a few of you that I’d like to collaborate with on projects in the future if the opportunity arises.

Man plans, God laughs.  I have no idea what the future holds for me.  But I can’t wait to find out.

Sign up for the email list here.

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Linkage For Your Soul

“I’ve always depended on the linkage of strangers” – Blanche DuBois

This blog is doing well on traffic, thanks in large part to getting linked from other popular writers.  So I am going to pass on some of that karma and link to some guys who have helped me, taught me or entertained me somewhere along the way.

One of my favorite writers in our corner of the web was always Frost, he’s like my Canadian doppelganger, so I’m happy that he’s starting Red Pill Review, an aggregator that will have a wider scope than the others.  There’s been a little tension between the manosphere and reactionaries/dark enlightenment but there is still a ton of crossover interest, and Red Pill Review fills a need: providing immediate links to the latest posts of both in one webpage.  Hit up Frost if you like it/hate it/have suggestions.

Paleo tribal leader John Durant is an honorary member of the manosphere/reactosphere whatever you call it.  A lot of the things we say under psuedonyms, he says under his real name.  Seriously, check out his twitter stream some time and follow him if you don’t already.  Also, buy his book.  My favorite metric of how much I like a book is how fast I read it (scaled to its length/difficulty), and I got through The Paleo Manifesto in about 10 hours.  I couldn’t put it down.  He explains human history so clearly and easily that I would recommend this book to someone even if they were a dumbass.  “This book changed my life” is an Oprah cliche, but it holds true for me here.  I’ll never look at food the same way again.  If I ever meet Durant, first drink is on me (to avoid waterborne pathogens of course).

Promising newcomers:  Henry Dampier provides clear, articulate cultural analysis.  John Glanton is one of the best writers I’ve ever read and that’s no small statement.  And he maintains possibly the best profile in existence as well.

If you are up for an intellectual challenge, check out Bryce Laliberte and Aimless Gromar.  There is no shame in using a dictionary when you read these guys.  If you can get through Bryce’s book What Is Neoreaction? without putting a revolver in your mouth, then either your IQ is above 120 or you don’t own a revolver.  As far as the neoreactionaries go, I am partial to these two guys because I’ve met them in person and they are cool.

If my favorite commenter Yohami ever starts posting more to his blog you’ll want to read it.

Branching out a bit from the usual manosphere clickhole, Ben Settle provides a masculine way to learn about copywriting and marketing.  He’s a refreshing voice in a field that is usually populated almost entirely with faggots.  I bought his book Zombie Cop but have not started reading it yet.

Dennis Mangan, who might be a distant cousin of mine if the surnames of my 23andme matches are to be trusted, runs a blog that not only provides great reactionary commentary, it also has the best comment section on the web.  He also posts to what I would call a health science blog.  Check out his book if you suffer from fatigue.

The manosphere’s resident style expert, Tanner, deserves a mention.  I also like the Black Tie Guide.

If you have an iPhone you’ll want to get the Glimpse app, it is like Snapchat except snapchat messages get stored on servers.  Glimpse messages truly disappear.  I’m looking forward to it coming to Android, so I can spread it amongst my peer group and multiple baby mamas.

A couple guys I discovered at Return of Kings: Runsonmagic and Trouble.

I envision myself taking the plunge one day because I love kids, but if you are a guy with any blood in your veins, the original scribes of Mark Minter will make you question everything you think about marriage.  I realize the guy got ganked from the manosphere for choosing happiness over integrity, but his words live on.  I don’t endorse his diatribes as they are anti-intimacy at their base, but an entertaining read nonetheless.  Guy was a good writer.

There is skepticism over praising so-called “Red Pill Women”, but of all the fillies I like Sunshine Mary.  Anybody who feminists hate that much is speaking some truths.

I haven’t seen the seemingly now inactive Men Are Better Than Women page get any ‘sphere love, but it is hilarious (and really only sort of tongue in cheek).

For money guys, I like Ramit, CoinDesk, and ZeroHedge.

And of course, if you don’t already follow Heartiste, Roosh, Rollo, and Krauser then I have no idea what you are doing on my blog.

Upset that I didn’t link you or your favorite blog?  Get a life.

Unnatural Selection

Once upon a time the harsh winter of northern latitudes brought forth a great selective pressure upon its human inhabitants.  The challenges of the terrain selected for the clever, and the cold climate allowed brains to expand with little metabolic cost. The minds it shaped brought forth innovation, first benefitting themselves and their spawn. Then capital, markets and money coevolved with agriculture and eventually developed into an Industrial Revolution to solve problems for the masses at a low price of $19.95.  Now western humanity has all the comfort and prosperity that 99.9% of humans did not have throughout history, with none of the brainpower required.

Today the threats of predators, vicious weather, starvation, and sexual excess have been solved by innovations built by great minds: Temperature controlled housing, superior technology and weaponry, mass produced food, medical innovation. It is only with these prosperous luxuries that this generation can consider progressive arguments that would get themselves laughed out of their village in shame throughout civilized history.  Indeed, being a progressive has become a way to signal just how comfortable and high status you are. Thank you for the innovations in reproductive medicine, now stay out of my bedroom while I laugh at the religious ethics that was my ancestor’s penicillin. Open your borders, disarm and share everything with the world or you’re a backwards racist hick. This washing machine is great, now stop oppressing women like a caveman.

With these comforts, for the first time the selective pressures that will shape the genome of future generations is not coming from nature, it is coming from high verbal IQ shysters within the populace. But Darwin don’t care. Threats to reproductive fitness can come from a bear running at you, or from a TV telling your daughter to never settle. You see the unfortunate story of a woman who spent the currency of her youth on degrees and contracepted sex with alpha males and then her IVF doesn’t take at 35. What I see is a gazelle who got eaten by a cheetah because it couldn’t run fast enough. To the universe, the result is just the same. There are those who won’t reproduce by their own carelessness or choice.  It isn’t to be fought. It is evolution in action. It isn’t sad, it is a beautiful thing to witness.

Those who are most susceptible to believe the slick liars when they preach equalism and egalitarianism and pathological altruism will see their reproductive fitness decline. Teach your daughter to be a strong independent feminist and you’ll take your death rattle with no grandchildren at the side of your bed. Embrace the blank slate and don’t say anything racist in front of your children, and your grandkids end up looking nothing like you. Refuse to extend a middle finger at the warm n’ fuzzy everyone-gets-a-trophy philosophy and your son ends up a pussy.  But with evolution, there are winners as well as losers. Some will resist these pressures.  Indeed, the cultural marxists should be careful what they wish for: They’re selecting for the smartest, most fertile, most racist, most patriarchal group the world has seen.

Of course, the high time preference underclass who can’t summon the willpower to reach for a condom in the heat of the moment will continue to spawn above the carrying capacity of their earning power. But an Idiocracy can only be supported by the grace and altruism of wealth-producing hosts. The civilized world that they thieve trust from is held together with precarious threads, not least of all being a novel fiat reserve currency. A black swan event will not be kind. When the greenback goes full Madoff and/or technological advances finally crush all the monkey-sorting-widget jobs and the parasite class must be formalized with a Guaranteed Minimum Income, you will see flight on a massive scale. Secession, expatriation, high walls, immigration-by-genome and no apologies.

So keep up the “progress”.  Release those cheetahs and we’ll see which gazelle can run the fastest. You think each time a universal ballot or activist judge swings left you’ve won a battle when really you’re just creating more leg room for my grandkids in Elysium.


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I review my first Krauser book

 “Learn to enjoy the dance.  That’s all it is- a dance.  At the end of it she wants to fall over backwards with her legs open” – Krauser

Krauser released his new book, Daygame Mastery.

My review, the short version:  Buy it.

The Long Version:

This is basically Mystery Method for guys who don’t like nailpolish and magic tricks and clubs.  Look, Mystery Method was a seminal masterpiece, but if you’re like me you read it skeptically.  You see it works but you think “I’m not fucking saying that” or “I’m not fucking wearing that”  or you read “The Game” or saw “The Pickup Artist” and thought “this Mystery guy is actually pretty fucking weird”.

In short, Mystery was writing a book about how to get laid, Krauser writes about how to get laid while actually being a man.  The difference is noticeable.  Simply, most guys don’t like clubs and Krauser’s style of gaming will come much more naturally to most people.

So let’s go through what I personally consider the highlights of this book:

- The mystery of “how to stop a girl during the day and what the fuck do you say” is solved. After this, there is no more excuse.  If you read this book and can’t approach a girl, the only thing that will be left to blame is your own fear and insecurity.

- In any good pickup the guy has to talk a lot at the beginning, but eventually the script flips and she’s doing most of the talking.  Krauser is the first guy I’ve seen really break down how you balance this and lead her into talking.  Sounds simple, but a hugely overlooked aspect in seduction is getting her to talk and listening to her words.  There is way too much literature on DHVs and AMOGing and not nearly enough on conversing with a girl like a human, so this part of Krauser’s book is a breathe of fresh air.

-Wit made easy.  Not everyone is a naturally silver-tongued casanova, but Krauser’s templates, mindsets and themes for opening, cold reads, texting, etc. will get you most of the way there.  If you are an autistic looking for scripted game to fake your way into a girl’s pants, this isn’t the right book for you.  Krauser gives plenty of examples, but he wants you to use your own creativity and words so that you come off normal and authentic.

-A masterful breakdown of long-game with real world examples.  Most guys who have been approaching girls for a while have a few girls numbers who live in different cities or who stalled out for whatever reason.  Just a read through of this chapter could end up paying huge dividends.  There is one particular tactic to his texting that I was actually pissed I never discovered on my own.  But I started using it immediately to great results.  You know I don’t do Facebook game, but for guys doing eurotrips, it seems to be a necessity.  Krauser’s playbook is better than anything out there.

- Date game.  If I had to bet, I’d say most guys biggest sticking points are approach anxiety, and moving a date along towards sex.  You know, it seems most guys have realized that one-night stands aren’t the apex of game but there has been a dearth of date game out there.  Krauser is the first I’ve seen to break down in detail a plan to keep your date moving, both when to be patient and when to escalate things properly.  If you often run out of things to say on a date, or lean on the same two or three stories, you’ll really want to pay attention here.  That can be a thing of the past.

-Frame Crushing.  My favorite part of the book, Krauser describes how to flip things around with really tough girls with a technique he calls Frame Crushing.  I really can’t say more without giving anything away but it will play really well as a save on girls you think are lost causes.

Questions I anticipate:

This is great for guys running game in Europe, but will his style of game work in North America?

Yes.  Most of the book reads like it could just as easily be a guide to daygaming North America.  Besides his European girl archetypes and british accent (I read the book in Krauser’s voice), the book is field-ready for any major American city.

What is this book’s biggest flaw?

It is a book.  As such, it cannot actually approach girls for you.  Do not buy this book if you’re not going to approach girls.  Let’s face it, this book could be the gilded word of God, but if you aren’t willing to get off your ass, walk up to a girl and say words, it will just be a paperweight for you.  This may seem obvious, but really do a gut check.  Make the decision now, are you a doer or a mental masturbator?

What’s with the high price tag?

Cheaper than a prostitute and pays more dividends.  The seduction community is currently a value-sucking machine.  Guys torrent and read tons of free material and put almost none of it into practice.  If you have a file full of game ebooks and audio on your hard drive and the high price tag throws you off… you’re probably a value sucker.  Nothing wrong with that, but understand that when you don’t personally invest in a product beyond a 2 minute download wait time, you are far less likely to put the product into action or even read it all the way through.  Paying for a product is a first step in forcing yourself to act.

Beyond that, I always found it ridiculous just how much information guys give away for free to their potential competition.  A man’s labor of blood and sweat should be given some evil capitalist compensation.  Also, this is actually a textbook.  Literally, it is built like your Calculus textbook but will provide you with far more pleasure.


For anyone who is interested in daygaming, this book is a solid buy, and that’s really all there is to it.

Click here to buy.

You may want to check out the video here where Krauser describes the book a little.

(For full disclosure I have NO monetary or affiliate interest in this book and Krauser and I don’t even like each other.  This post is raw opinion.)


Love is a choice.  There is a moment, or rather a series of moments, where you choose to love.  You can choose to spend an extra night with her this week.  You can choose to share your vulnerabilities and listen to her do the same.  You choose to cancel other dates.  You choose to trust.  You make these choices enough times and gradually love builds.  Love didn’t just happen.  You chose it.

You may be able to get sex every night of the week from a different girl but you can’t find love every night of the week.  Love is not like sex, it is far rarer, it takes far more time.  It is scarce.  Sure, there may be a girl with a nice ass in every bar in your city but finding one worthy of your time and emotions?  Not quite so easy.  Impossible, the jaded might say.

So love is living in scarcity.  The girl who falls in mutual love with you is not easily replaceable.  It would take time to build that with another girl.

That, the relationship experts will tell you, is bad.  The one who has the most power is the one who needs the other one least. This is true.  But the goal of making all relationships replaceable denies the human experience.  You’ll have all the power over relationships that don’t matter at all.  An autistic feels no love, is he then the most powerful man there is?

Alright, so girls don’t love the way you were told they love.  They’re more opportunistic than Hollywood taught you.  Their love for you is conditional.  There are a ton of bad apples to sift through.  The sum total of cautionary tales of men who have been burned by ill-fated trust can make you write the whole thing off as a sucker’s game.

But it is only a man who has seen the sausage being made and witnessed the horror stories that dispel any notion of idealistic death-do-you-parts who can have any true appreciation for love.  It is only after a man realizes love is actually highly conditional and opportunistic for both parties that he can free it from its unrealistic expectations.  Only after you know it as something fleeting and elusive can you see the conditions that click it into place as a beautiful anomaly amidst a harsh unforgiving world.

So your brain is just tricking you because evo-biologically speaking love is two people of similar sexual market value chemically pairbonding to ensure sufficient parental investment.


Knowing that hunger is just a way for your body to get sufficient nutrients and energy does not make filet mignon any less succulent.

And yet it is the hedonist who often spurns love to instead embrace the free pursuit of new conquest.  But any hedonist who willingly deprives himself of the deep, passionate pleasure of love is no hedonist at all.  Sex on weed can make you feel tingly, but sex on love is something to which no drug, natural or synthesized, can compare.

Love is not marriage nor is marriage love.  Love is not an endgame, it is not a contract, it is a beautiful thing to be experienced and enjoyed while it lasts, much like a sunset.  It is not yours to capture and keep in a cage and the harder you try to do so the faster it fades.

So maybe today you leave your computer and make a human connection.

Maybe you meet a girl and take a leap.

Maybe love doesn’t last forever.

But maybe that doesn’t matter.

How To Date a Porn Star

Tori Black enlightens you:

Haha.  Good one, Tori.

The real question is: Who the fuck would want to date a porn star?

There’s hilarity that a girl can give it away to numerous gentleman of questionable repute, on camera, countless times, for the entire world to see and jack off to, and still think she should be treated like anything other than a dirty spunkhole.

Nobody wants to take you to Starbucks, Tori Black.

Any guy who dates a porn star is either:

1) Rich n’ Beta
2) A member of the underclass with a checkered criminal past who is fucking other girls of questionable STD status concurrently
3) A male porn star

Nobody who reads my blog should have any notion of DATING a porn star.  But…what if you just want to fuck one?

I got you, playa.

Here goes:

Purge all provider committment signals.  Committ as little time, emotions, and resources to a porn star as possible. Do not play white knight saving her from her shitty life.  In fact, never express any empathy at all for how shitty her life is.  Do not try to lure her with promises of a ride on your boat or an expensive dinner.

Don’t be a fan of her work.  Tori gets this part right when she describes the concept of the “fan zone”.  Awesome.  The fanzone is the friendzone on steroids.  When you approach a female celebrity as a fan, you are telling her that not only do you not have a mission yourself, you spend your free time fawning over how well she pursues her mission.  Is there any bigger pedestal than the fan zone?  The best way to deal with a female celebrity is to pretend you don’t recognize her.

Swat away her sex talk.  When a porn star brings up sex around an average guy, he may be intimidated by her experience, or creaming-in-his-pants excited to talk about it. Play down her sexual skill or ignore her sexual comments completely.  If she starts bragging about how well she can slob on a dick, say “we’ll see” and change the topic.  Porn stars have no other source of validation in life besides being good at sex, so if you don’t give her this, she’ll have to get it from actually fucking you.  Also, don’t give physical compliments.

Up the uncaring asshole game.   Girls who don’t respect themselves don’t respect guys who respect them.

Be completely non-judgmental.  She must never for a second realize that you are aware of the fact that being a porn star makes her a subclass human.  Pretend her profession is no more disgusting than if she were a Whole Foods cashier.

Be a jacked badass.  There’s probably nothing that turns a pornstar on more than beating the shit out of a guy right in front of her.  It will probably remind her of her father.

Play up your artistic/spiritual qualities.  In a logical world, female porn stars are low value and disgusting, so they are allergic to all logic. The mysterious abstract becomes their reality.  Say you’re in a band, or you’re a photographer, or you’re into herbal energy healing or some bullshit.  That old routine “The Cube” probably works like gangbusters on porn stars.  Demonstrate authority over the abstract and you have authority over her.

The reality of “I fuck guys on camera for money” is probably too harsh for the female brain to accept, so a porn star will probably hamster hamster hamster that by saying she is an actress, or a performer.  Try not to laugh when she says this.

If all else fails, have drugs on you.  Cocaine recommended.

Use a borrowed dick, if possible.

If you succeed in fucking a porn star, immediately schedule a visit to clinic for the health of your penis and consult your pastor or spiritual advisor for the health of your soul.


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Just Another Brick In The Wall


Look at that girl.  Hot, right?

She’s a 10.

You know what else, though?

One day, she is going to hit the wall.

One day, she will be so haggard and ugly that you wouldn’t even look at her if she stepped in the same elevator as you.

One day, she will be so wrinkled and mangy that the thought of fucking her will give you a de-rection.

One day, no man who is not the father of her child or related to her will give a shit about her.

One day, nobody will rack their brain for something to say to her.  Nobody’s heart will start racing at the mere sight of her.

One day, nobody will want to look at a picture of her.

One day, if she would dress in that same lingerie and show you that exact same pose, your reaction would be pure disgust.

Still afraid to approach her?

The wall is cruel in that it robs beauty from the world.  The wall is also necessary in that it helps force a woman to be modest or accept foul consequences.

Let’s take a look at the sexual market options of an extremely hot woman as she runs through life.

Today, at age 20, she is a 10.  Every man wants her.  Every woman wants to be her.  She attracts cads, dad material, and even the rare holy grail of guys who could be cads but want to be dads.  Agencies pay her for her photograph.  Men approach her often.  People buy her things and give her stuff for free.  No door is closed to her.

At 25, she is a 9.  She is still jerkoff material for horny betas browsing her facebook page.  The beta unattractive men still worship her.  Cads will still gladly take her for a romp.  She gets approached maybe slightly more now, the guys who were too nervous to approach her when she was a 10 are now trying to talk to her.  Though approaches have gone up, quality of man has gone slightly down. The attractive cad and dad combo suitors are still around but less enthusiastic, and she notices the really really hot men she craves have their eyes set on slightly younger women.

Five years pass, she is now 30.  She’s now an 8 maximum, probably less.  The modeling agency hasn’t called in four years.  The ever present beta dads still worship her.  There are far fewer cads chasing her and they are less tolerant of resistance and time before sex.  If she doesn’t put out after the second date, she never hears from guys again.  If she does put out before the second date, she still doesn’t hear from guys again.  She is just a notch.  Those sexy yet safe cad/dad combos are all swept off the market by smarter women.  Men in her preferred age range who would consider her for serious relationships are either nauseatingly beta, or have baggage, emotional or otherwise.  Rarely do men approach her on the street.

Another five years.  She is now 35.  At the very best, she is a 7.  She is never approached on the street anymore.  Even the beta dad guys seem to have baggage now.  The disney prince type admirable men are vanished from her dating sphere.  Even cad attention is dwindling.

Five christmases tick off the calendar and she hits 40.  The absolute best she can be is a 6 (and thats god damn generous).  She signs up for online dating and sees young up and coming cads in their early 20s want to use her for a quick secret confidence building fuck.   Caddish guys nearer her age will hit it, but they tolerate zero resistance or bullshit before sex.  Only very sexless vanilla guys who do not stimulate her emotions at all will take her on a second date.

Our girl hits 45.  Cads don’t want her anymore.  Cats don’t either, but she has them anyway.

The lesson for women is leverage your fucking youth and beauty for all its worth while you have them.  I don’t mean for money.  I don’t mean for sex.  I mean leverage them into something long-lasting and worthwhile.  Twenty year-old Sarah’s choices have far-reaching consequences for fifty-year old Sarah’s quality of life.

No matter how much money or great sex your looks get you while you are 20, it won’t make people give a shit about you when you are 50.

The happiest women are the ones who used the bait of youthful beauty to settle down with a good husband who wanted a family.  At 55 do you want kids and grandkids and stability or a account?

Know that you are a depreciating asset to men in general.  As your value to all men decreases, you must build your value to one well-chosen man by proving trustworthy over and over, being a source of feminine support, and being a producer and care-giver to his genetic spawn.

The lesson for men: Take a look at that gorgeous girl.  She is a walking expiration date.  Her power in this world is fleeting.  She is the temporary head coach knowing he’s getting replaced at the end of the season.

Do not see her as a 20 year old hottie.

See her as a person.

This is just a snapshot of her life, and she will change drastically.

Her beauty will fade.

What else she got?

Man on a Mission

*Alright, feminists, playtime is over for now.  This blog will now return to its regularly scheduled programming.*

The most attractive thing to women is a man on a mission.

How does a man act when he’s on a mission?

A man on a mission cares not for any girl’s reaction to him.  He cares for his mission.  Sure, he may want sexual release, but he feels no approach anxiety.  To a man focused on a higher mission, approaching girls is like playing with little kids in a sandbox: cute, but ultimately meaningless.

A man on a mission naturally treats women with the aloof alpha attitude and dominant frame that PUAs try to imitate.  Picture a guy spending all day striving, sweating and bleeding for a mission, going home with his struggle still on his mind.  A girl flakes or gives him some drama, does he even care?

A man on a mission pursues sex and escalates boldly because he doesn’t have time to waste.  He does not have months to spend, he does not have time to buy seven dinners before a chance at sex.  He has shit to do.  Its fuck or walk, your choice.

A man on a mission worships no girl.  He puts his mission on a pedestal, not his girl.

A man on a mission is impossible to friendzone.  He simply doesn’t have time to listen to a girl’s emotional outpourings.

A man on a mission treats girls with abundance.  There are many girls, but only one mission.

A man on a mission has ambition, passion and drive.  Anybody who spends time with him can sense this.

A man on a mission is never at a loss for words.  He has stories.  I was (working on my mission) when…., My friend ______(who I know from my mission) and I……,

A man on a mission has boundaries.  He will not let a girl take up too much of his time or do anything that will jeopardize his mission.

A man on a mission chooses a wife or long term girlfriend carefully.  She must complement him and make his home life easier, as he is out living his mission.

A man on a mission does not check his phone every minute to see if that girl from the weekend texted him back.  He works on his mission, noticing only when he takes a break that she texted him hours ago.

A man on a mission cannot be rejected by a girl because he derives his self-esteem from how well he is pursuing his mission, not from the actions of anybody else.

A man on a mission finds status, wealth, and fame awaiting for him when he succeeds.  This was not his primary motivator but it attracts women nonetheless.

To a guy who can’t get laid, shitty game is a symptom, not the disease.  The root cause of all neediness, pedestalization, social anxiety, unworthiness, and lack of confidence is not having a mission.

Next time you have a girl problem, ask yourself:

Don’t I have something better to do?

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I Hit It First: Why A Girl’s Sexual Past Matters

A girl’s sexual past matters.

You will hear otherwise from delusional sluts who have been pumped and dumped yet are still hoping to attain commitment from a decent man, and from white knight feminist males who falsely believe that by agreeing with an irrational female perspective they might get an ounce of pussy thrown their way.  Even successful players rant against slut shaming to convince themselves they’re leaving girls better than they found them, and to rationalize their r-selected lifestyle as a heavenly ideal rather than embracing their role as bad boy anti-society hustlers, or to make sure the spigot of free pussy remains on tap because deep down they realize they’d get locked out of the sexual market in a more K-selected environment.

From these people you will hear that if you care about a girl’s past you are insecure, have jealousy issues, an inflated male ego, and a society-programmed madonna whore dichotomy.


There are perfectly logical reasons why a rational, well-adjusted man would want his woman to have a clean sexual history.

1.) Girls with high N counts are fucking crazy.  With the biological threats of partner desertion, death by childbirth, and incurable STDs, having a high partner count had been a biologically impossibility for a woman until the 20th century.  As such, women are emotionally inequipped to handle all the emotional baggage that comes with getting their goods plundered by many pirate ships.  Consider we are the same humans today that we were in 1850, and in that time any girl with double digit sexual partners was almost certainly a poverty stricken prostitute.  Even if a girl does not have a very high N count, her sexual past still shows her general character and emotional stability.  Did she rebound failed relationships by fucking guys because she had to feel pretty and wanted? Did she seek out a lot of bad boys, older men, rich guys, etc.? Does she use guys for validation because she has a hole in her soul?  Is she fucking only boyfriends, or does she have a history of fucking cool guys who won’t commit to her?  These things matter.  Experienced players can vouch for the fact that craziness and sluttiness are highly correlated.

2.) For every sexual partner a girl has, her capacity to emotionally bond to her next sexual partner decreases.  The less sexual partners a girl has, the more deeply she can fall in love.  The intensity of her heart throbbing, her butterflies, and how much her lover’s touch feels like electricity on her skin are all negatively correlated to how sexually experienced she is. The slut cannot enjoy sex with the same emotional intensity as her more chaste counterpart. If you want to inspire deepest love and passion possible, you want a partner with a thin sexual history.

3.) Nobody wants to treat somebody else’s whore like a princess.  If a store is giving away free milk to every one else, and then tries to charge you full price, would you pay it?  Could you walk to your car after purchasing milk, and see all the people who got free milk smirking at you for being a sucker because they got the same enjoyment out of the same milk for free?  Simply put, a girl puts a price on her vagina, why outbid it?  You wouldn’t pay above sticker price for a new car, would you?

4.) Baggage.  The more partners a girl has, the more likely she is to have baggage, aka lingering feelings, past lovers coming out of nowhere to threaten your relationship, conflicting relationships in social circles you have to deal with, etc.  Its not a small amount of relationships that end due to issues like this.  Even if you think all the other reasons are bullshit, you ignore this one at your own peril.

5.) STD risk (obvious).

6.) Past behavior predicts future behavior.  It’s not a perfect predictor, but its the best indicator we have.  If a girl has fucked a lot of guys in the past, she’ll probably fuck a lot of guys in the future.  This means cheating risk, or the risk that she will end your relationship on a whim because she finds another guy she wants to fuck.  And it goes deeper.  Has she ever cheated on a past partner?  If so, you’ll get cheated on.  Does she accuse her exes of abusing her, but is sketchy on the details?  If so, she’ll be telling people you abused her when you break up.  Past sexual dalliances and relationship problems generally predict a future of the same.  If she wants you to stay with her until she’s old and riddled with osteoporosis, the least she can do is keep her legs shut when she’s young.

7.) Evolutionary embedded disgust.  It is not social conditioning that a man feels visceral disgust at the thought of his girls previous partners plowing her sweet nether regions.  In past times, the seal of virginity was the only paternity guarantee available.  A girl with multiple partners would give birth to a son of unknown fatherhood.  The men would commit less resources, if any, to the raising of her child.  Our biology demands that we treat girls who aren’t pure as pump and dumps.  That we now have DNA testing doesn’t change the fact that a man feels repulsion at the thought of committing time, emotions and resources to a slut, because it could have meant genetic death via false paternity.  The feeling is scientifically valid and cannot be invalidated by self-serving solipsism.


Don’t these reasons apply to guys as well?  Sure, some of the above listed reasons do apply to guys, and a girl shopping for a long-term mate should be aware of these things.

For instance, a high N count guy is much more likely to have cynicism and an embrace of the player lifestyle that would lead him to be bad relationship material.  However, a woman’s attraction to a man is more complex than that man’s attraction to her.  An experienced man who other women desire sexually is more attractive to women, and men who are attractive to women usually fuck lots of them.  Most low N count guys don’t maintain low partner count because of some kind of golden halo of virtue, most the time its because he has no options with women to begin with.  (Of course, a guy who treats his seed like liquid gold and values monogamy can keep his partner count low while having a great sex life.)

Women want the desired man who chooses her over all his past and potential lovers.  Whether or not he fucked the other girls who desired him is irrelevant (though he usually does).  For fucks sake, just look at all chick flicks, romance novels and other inane girl fiction that has the classic “reformed player falls for girl” as its vagina tingling plotline.

Ladies, if you really want to kill this double standard, why don’t you find yourself a nice male virgin to date?

The lesson here?  Actions have consequences.

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Your Seed is Gold

Sex is too easy.

Work out, put on nice clothes, talk to girl, tease her, tell her cool things about me, pretend to be interested in her, fuck her.


Too fucking easy.

It’s stupid.

I don’t give a shit about sex.  Any broad can spread her legs.

You know what I do care about?  Holding girls to a higher standard.

Why?  Because my seed is liquid fucking gold and I don’t give it out like its god damn tap water.

See girls, your pussy is powerless to me.  What else you got?

You slip on a tight skirt and throw on some makeup and flaunt those nice tits and think your job is done. You shit-test me all the way into the bedroom expecting me to give you amused mastery and show you my status and give you attention and ignore you just right all at the same time, and then you’ll give me sex.

But why should I give you my valuable time and let you revel in my charisma?

Sex, is that the big deal?  I’m supposed to feel so grateful that you blessed me with that magical unicorn pussy of yours?

I got news for you girls.  For a guy with any clue, finding sex is as easy as finding a pizzeria in New York, and like pizza in New York, its all pretty fucking good.

Your brand ‘aint that special.

Sex is everywhere and anywhere I want it, I don’t give a shit about yours.

It takes more than a nice curve of the ass or a bat of the eyelashes to earn my seed.

My salty essence and genetic code is a gift from my father, and his father, and his father, and on it goes.  Its the sticky genetic code of self-sufficient men who have protected and provided for family, women and children.  Its the haplogroup of men who built civilization.  I have the genetic lineage of warriors, business owners, firefighters, blacksmiths, farmers, herders, poets, politicians, soldiers, artists and even chefs.  Hard jobs that help build the world, thinking jobs that help build a culture, they’ve all been done by men in my bloodline.  My ceiling for accomplishment is limitless.

I’m not some average guy begging to give my seed away.  My seed is valuable and I know it.

Men of lesser genetics may be able to afford spraying their seed anywhere; I allow myself no such atrocities.

My sperm could populate an entire society of strong good looking altruistic people and any girl who takes it in would be lucky to be a vessel towards that new world.

But for that I demand a high price.

Whether or not our sex is intended to end in pregnancy makes no difference.  Just the sheer fact that it could makes me demand the same high price.

You better have enviable genetics yourself- I don’t breed with inferior stock.  Beauty is the minimum and you better know how important that is.  Long hair grown to impress me, healthy diet and exercise to maintain your figure and viability of your eggs.

But the beauty that draws the stares, stutters and drools of lesser men won’t capture my attention for more than a millisecond.  I am inundated with a surplus of beauty in my daily pursuits, I can assure you that yours ‘aint that special.  You probably look like shit first thing in the morning or on the first day of your period.

I expect impeccable hygiene and classy style.  A body tainted by tattoos and excessive piercings and slutty clothing signals you are available for sex to lesser men than myself.  I’ll have none of that.

I demand a low N count to show you value your body and sex, and the seed I am about to give you will be appreciated on the level it deserves.  A low N count shows both intelligence and confidence as you are smart enough not to give your body to charlatans and scoundrels, and confident enough to wait for the high value man you know you deserve.

I expect manners and grace.  No swearing, drunkenness, burping, sarcasm or anything else unbecoming of a lady.  I spend a lot of time working with and competing against men in my daily life, the last thing I need is the company of a woman who acts like the men I must compete with.  You exist to soothe, not to grate.

A year from now I will be richer and fitter and more socially respected in the Kingdom, but your beauty will have faded a notch.  I demand that you treat me with the humility and respect that this biological reality dictates.

Finally, there is nothing I despise more than a woman who shows any disgust for my jizz.

It is the Royal Essence and you better enjoy every last drop.
If it lands on your face, chest or back, consider it raindrops from heaven, a rope of Holy Yogurt.
If you are lucky enough to get it in your mouth, savor it like the nourishing nectar of the Gods.
If I shoot it inside you consider it the greatest compliment of all.  You will feel an immediate buzz.
My jizz is to women what Walter White’s pure blue meth is to junkies.
You’ll take my seed, sweetly tell me “thank you sir” and buzz with happy feminine energy for the next day while you iron my fine shirts and indulge in memories of me.

I’ll settle for nothing less.

Some girls don’t want to respect a man that much.  They have been poisoned by feminism or never had a strong male figure to look up to growing up or they have already taken far too high a volume of cock to revere their next one. I have no use for those girls.  Even a one-night stand with them is worthless beyond the ten-second orgasm, itself not worth the time spent to get it. Leave them for the men who have a low enough opinion of themselves to not demand such respect.

For guys, I don’t give a shit how many girls you’ve fucked just like I don’t give a shit how many pizzerias you’ve eaten at.  A man is measured more by the pizzeria’s he refuses to eat at, the prices he refuses to pay for average pizza, if you know what I mean.

Remember, you set the price of your seed.

Mine is fucking gold.

What’s yours?

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