It’s on. I don’t know what “it” is, and I’m not sure what is necessary to turn it on but it doesn’t matter. I’m reprogramming this shit like Mario Kart on cocaine – whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. The first thing that the pussified mind wants me to revert to is the “It’s not fair” mentality. I’m good-looking, in the best shape of my life, witty, and all that shit – why has it been three months since I’ve gotten my dick sucked?

Fuck That – Now’s my time to shine. Starting this Monday I have my mom’s house for a week. I’m making a point of going out every single night in order to get some girls in my “revolving door.” As I typed that last sentence I could hear most every woman sigh with disgust. I’m cool with it – I’m not taking this on out of a place of dishonesty. I’ve always wanted the player lifestyle and I see no reason why right now shouldn’t be the perfect time to pursue it.

It’s still early (Thursday) but tonight’s a karaoke competition at a local bar. Being that I wake up at 5 am to workout and drive my mum to work there’s no way that I’m going to be able to sleep over a girl’s house – and I’m not pulling her back to meet my mum (maybe if my mum wasn’t so conservative she’d understand.) Aside from fucking a girl at 10 pm inside my car, there’s no way that I’m getting laid tonight. Whatever – I’m going to kick the ass of this Karaoke competition and make out like a rock star Jesus with Mary Magdalene on Easter.
I’m making an effort not to get shitty as someone I know recently got a DUI and I was always the kid in class who got caught. Alcohol usually helps loosen me up but I don’t need it – I’ve got this:
My list of opening lines include but is not limited to:
“Hi”
“Hey”
“Yo”
“How’s it going?”
And my personal favorite
“Yo Shawti – you be FINE – Na’am Saying? Hahaha – God I hope you can take a joke. I’m Ben”

All in all - I just want to give some fun/love tonight. To quote the modern philosopher Anthony Kiedis: Give it Away, Give it away, Give it Away Now.

Just finished my morning jog and I feel pretty awesome. Over the last couple months exercise has become a positive addiction to me – I’m proud that I have finally started to make strides towards being the kind of person that I always wanted to be in that regard.

It’s only a matter of time before I can say the same thing about having passionate sexual relationships. My only “problem” (and I use that term loosely) is that there is something repulsive to me about using manipulation to get something. The whole paradigm seems completely fucked. Why is it that in our modern day linguistic expression a man “gets” sex whereas a woman “has” sex? If I’m going to be in this I want to give sex as a gift. There have been a few (maybe three) experiences that I’ve had in past relationships where I felt this – like my girlfriend at the time wanted me to give my sexual gift as opposed to her “having” sex with me. It felt awesome – her deep yearning was even more of an aphrodisiac than the physicality of it all. I hate the whole rating scale but I would rather have sex with a 7 that isn’t afraid to show a deep yearning (moaning, being made vulnerable by her desire) than a 10 who just kind of lays there.

About an hour ago, while I was out jogging I saw a cute girl near a train station and shot out my SUPER ALPHA END GAME SECRET OPENING LINE: “Hey.”

I told her that since I was jogging and working outside of my comfort zone that morning, I felt like I should be entitled to talk to a pretty girl. The conversation after that went something like this:

Me: “So what are you doing at the train station?”

Her: “I live in New York I was just visiting my boyfriend.”

Me: “You want two? – I’m all about that empowering feminist shit – just don’t talk to me about all your experiences with him.”

Her: “Haha – that’s ok.”

As the train pulled up I told her that she should give me her number since this was our last chance together – she politely declined. I high-fived myself and gave “self-props” for going out of my comfort zone and saying what I wanted to. It’s been a few months since I’ve been out of college and I feel like it’s important to relearn meeting people casually.

Last night at the bar had its moments. Right after I arrived I asked the bartender/waitress about signing up for the karaoke contest. As she talked she began casually touching my arm and told me that sign ups where at nine. She brushed my abs with her hand while I rested my fingers outside her forearm. She told me that she would take it upon herself to sign me up for the competition if I wasn’t there. I enjoyed her company but knew that she wouldn’t have much free time throughout the night. I signed up for the karaoke competition and sat down to watch the Yankees game. I’ve got to get more into sports – the bar started screaming and it looked fun – even primal.

All in all there weren’t that many girls in the bar at the start of the night. There was some cute Asian girl sitting in the corner but there were no seats next to her and I didn’t feel like standing the entire time I talked to her. Fuck it – next time if I really want to give my gift I’ll just scream “Yo you look like this figure skater – how’s the night life over there shawi?” or something along those lines. Besides sharing occasional flirtatious banter with the bartender, I give myself no self props for this part of the evening.

Finally a group of girls came in – I saw a pretty girl in a leather jacket and decided that it’s going down. It’s funny – this feeling of “Fuck it – I’m doing this” that I get when I approach a woman is the same feeling that I get when I start to exercise.

We talk and she is pretty receptive. I literally open with, “Yo shawti you look Damn FINE! –Haha – Hi I’m Ben.” I caress her hand and she lightly touches my leg. I see her friend and say “Hey – I’m Ben. I couldn’t help but flirt with your friend – she’s cute.” The friend seems totally cool with it. I give myself self-props here for honesty and for harnessing the “Fuck it” vibe.

The conversation has a lot of pauses – in a sexy way (To be fair, I guess someone else could just as well call these awkward silences.) We talk about college, working out, music, and everything in between. I get her number and continue talking about my puppies and my home life. I figure now is a good time to go somewhere a bit more isolated to get to know each other better and to show that I'm not afraid to act on my desires and make out. I ask her for her age and she tells me that she is 20 (Now I know we can’t go to the bar and get a beer or something but the bar is full of people anyway.) I pull her in next to my seat but she’s kind of rigid. I ask her if she smokes (Even though I try not to smoke for the most part it’s a really good way to have some time one on one.) She doesn’t smoke.

At this point I ran out of ideas – and it must have shown. I should have made an excuse for her to go outside with me (maybe something like – “it’s loud in here”) or just left to do something else. I respect myself for having tried to hang in there but I can’t give any self-props here. Her friends were to our right and any attempt at a kiss was a “no-go.” She starts saying that she should get back to her friends –but I just keep talking and she just keep standing. I’m surprised that she doesn’t leave no matter how many times she says she has to get back to her friends. Finally I leave to get ready for Karaoke.

I kill the song (“What I Got” by sublime.) and make it to the finals which will be held in a week or so. When I come back to talk to the girl about it– she tells me one of the guys here is her boyfriend, but that we can still be friends and that she knows a lot of single girls (I would have taken her up on this offer but I wasn’t attracted to anyone that was in her group.) I tell her, “You know that wouldn’t happen,” and accept the fact that this guy either really is her boyfriend or that something I did or said was less than attractive. It’s all good – props to me for not taking this personally and realizing that it probably had something to do with the way I presented myself. My intentions should have been clearer and I should have let her know that I wasn’t afraid to lead her somewhere else and “pull the trigger.”

When I finally get this all written up into a book – I also wrote a drunken letter to myself (So much for my goal of not getting drunk – I still respect myself for jogging this morning though.) It’s as insightful as it is unperceptive.

All in all I give myself two and a half self-props for the night and for this morning.

Whilst I was urinating, I thought of the zaniest, most off the wall line to move a girl with me. I was going to save it in case I write a book –but fuck it – I’ll have other stuff that I can save selfishly. I call this my “Super End-Game Isolation Song of Destruction” or SEGISD.
It starts by looking deeply into a woman’s eyes – I’d probably do this for a solid five seconds because I think it’s hot.

Here’s where the magic happens – Slowly echo the words: “I can show you the world.” Stare into her eyes with the silence building, and then continue: “Shining, shimmering splendid - Tell me, princess, now when did you first let your heart decide.” Hahaha – now it’s totally on. I’ll just tell her, “Let’s go on a magic carpet ride babes,” and it should all be gravy. I can’t wait to try this.






Last night my attraction game was tighter than Botox on plastic. I go in with a friend of mine who has some real social problems/anxiety. I try to get him into the whole, “I don’t give a fuck” attitude earlier by screaming in a park before we leave but he doesn’t roll with it. I see some 40 year olds and scream out, “Yo shawtis -Hot Damn- whatsup?” For some reason this is incredibly funny to me- the two guys outside think I’m nuts. A girl comes out to talk to them and they instantly start talking about me and what I had just done – this turns me into what I like to call, “conversational currency.” The girl starts talking to me – but I see a blond that catches my eye. I say, “Hey” and an apple rolls out of my pocket (Despite smoking and drinking too much throughout the night - I tried to keep healthy foods with me.)

I decide to turn what could be a weird situation into fun: “Fuck – that was my favorite apple! You're hot and all but you better damn well be worth it – I’m kind of a health food nut. I’m Ben.”

It’s on – I put my arm around her and can actually hear the girl who had talked about me before saying to my friend, “Your friend has got tight game,” – Awesome – I am becoming potent conversational currency. I’ll give myself self-props here for opening because it pushed me out of my comfort zone – but everything else just flowed. I don’t feel like I deserve any points outside of my own enjoyment of sharing the moment with them. It’s early in the night and I make my way inside the bar. Walk up to order a beer with two girls that most guys would probably not consider really hot – but I don’t care. I still find myself attracted to one of them.

I make some small talk and really enjoy the interaction – it’s got a fun, funky vibe. I have to go to the bathroom and tell my friend to talk to these girls. While I’m with them I tell him that they love a man whose “loose” and that “it helps if your voice cracks a lot.” The girls find this funny but my friend seems outside of his element. I’ve gone out with him a few times now – and he has an EXTREMELY logical approach to game. I give him props for going out and getting out of his comfort zone – and if he keeps at it with an open mind he can only improve.

After peeing, I get back and go in my wallet to pay for the beer, only to notice that I have some high school hall passes (A friend of mine substitute teaches.) I find this pretty funny and give each of the girls a hall pass. I ask for another beer – the bartender almost goes out of her way to ignore me. I scream her name obnoxiously loud and she acknowledges me only to take a lot of time. It might sound a little over the edge but I honestly saw this whole situation as her going out of her way to try to ignore me so that I’d give her more attention. Finally, one of the girls asks the bartender to get me a drink by name. It turns out that the girls I’m with are really tight friends with the bartender – Cool. I sign one of the girl’s hall passes and tell her she can go to the nurse now.

I see the blond girl from before at a table – and politely excuse myself. I put my arm around the blond and open up with, “I’ve missed you so much baby – you look wonderful.” There are quite a few faces in the group that I haven’t introduced myself to. One of them looks at me incredulously and asks Blondie, “Do you know this guy?” she goes on to say, “You can’t put your arm around my friend, who are you?” I don’t skip a beat with the Mother Hen – I’m so up for a challenge:

Me: I like you.

Mother Hen: …?

Me: You’re the alpha female here – you’ve got one of the strongest personalities here tonight.

Mother Hen: (Smiles.)

Me: I have a friend who you would love – no one fucks with him he’s got a tight head on his shoulders.

Mother Hen: Really? Cool.

Unfortunately – the conversation gets to a point where the blond asks, “What’s my name again?” and I totally forget. At first I play it off – but when it really gets down to it she starts losing interest in me – and says something like, “Just talk to your other female friends.” I totally deserved this – she was cute and I could have at least made an effort to remember her name. I give myself no props here.

I get back to the other girls and decide to sign the other girl's hall pass with my other hand. I proudly declare that I am ambidextrous. As I start signing the pass it becomes increasingly apparent that I am not ambidextrous at all. She gets on my case for this and I find it extremely funny. I tell her that it’s the only hall pass that I have EVER signed with my left hand and that she is a very special and lucky girl. I look deep into her eyes and tell her that she’ll have to come to my office because she needs to be disciplined. I get her number.





While we’re talking there’s some real ass/leg touching going on. It’s hot and I start to think about moving with her to somewhere so that we can be more intimate. I ask her if she smokes cigarettes and it’s a “no-go.” It feels kind of weird to move her– since she’s here with a friend and it would be mean to leave her completely alone. I give myself two props here for mutually expressing a leg/ass connection with this girl, and another prop for at least trying to isolate even though I could have taken it further.

Next time I’ll try for it anyway with my almighty SEGISD. Or maybe I’ll just go for a quick kiss – hell maybe I could have kissed both of them. For some reason – it didn’t completely feel out of bounds.

Unfortunately – I didn’t do any of that. Even though my comfort zone has become wide in terms of, what I say and do, I have to push it for what I really want. Even though I’m getting there – being a true player is not my reality yet – so certain things still feel a bit out of place.

The girls leave. Later on in the night I text, ‘Get home safe or I won’t write you another hall pass.” She texts back, “But then I can’t come to your office for u discipline me.” – her grammar's a little off but Awesome nonetheless. Unfortunately she lives with her parents and my mom was still at home – so I really couldn’t pursue this.

To get this fun, player lifestyle I will need to move girls with me and go for kisses. All things considered, I give myself four and a half props for the night. One real-world problem that I'm incurring is that I often drink and smoke a lot during times like this. As someone who eventually wants to be a personal trainer these occasional habits conflict with a lot that I do throughout the day. Still- both help my game a lot– and the only repercussions are me feeling bad about it the next day. I’ll find a way around this but right now it just doesn’t feel super important. I need a bit more leverage on myself.

All in all - I’ve got to admit it’s getting better – a little better all the time.

There’s something admirable about that unwavering honesty with a woman. Not a superficial kind of honesty which you say because you want something like, “Hey – I really like that shirt.” At that moment, both parties have an inkling that the shirt is usually just an excuse and the real reason for the compliment is something like, “Hey – your breasts are beautiful and I think would like to get to know you and eventually fuck you,” or even, “Hey I want to feel cool – you’re beautiful so I would value myself more if you enjoyed me.” The latter is a self-esteem issue that I won’t get into, but the former is a natural desire. I have a feeling that a lot of guys are preconditioned to think that this desire is something that turns women off and I’m sure that it can if it’s told from a place of objectification or manipulation. If the words come from a place of honesty (from one’s inner core) however, it’s becoming increasingly apparent to me that it doesn’t –in fact women have actually liked it when you are in touch with your own sexuality. I know that this rock has probably been turned over before but really think about what it translates to.



If you’re really being honest, it’s natural to open a woman by telling her that her body turns them on – and that you would like to get to know her. It’s OK and sincere to tell her that you fantasize about her. If you’ve been connecting with her and you suddenly find yourself drawn to her breasts – it’s OK to tell her, “You have a really beautiful body.” This doesn’t translate to you touching her if she’s standoffish or to you repeatedly telling her “You have an awesome ass.” Just because she might appreciate the honesty does not mean that she is attracted to you or that she wants to hear it again and again.

I just starting getting this a few days ago and in addition to having women respond amazingly, I feel much better about myself because I know that I’m coming from a place of total honesty. This does not mean that telling a girl, “I love the way that your ass jiggles – it makes me horny” will amount to her viciously lusting over you – but even this can be better than a lot of other lines if it is said from a place of sincerity. In terms of how society works however, I would think it less crude to compliment someone on their body rather than specific body parts. Either way – it’s all about sincerely expressing and feeling your own desires rather than hiding them with stories that you don’t want to tell.

This is obviously more honest than memorizing routines – and I’m even willing to say that it’s more honest than some forms of self-amusement. It’s rewarding to know that you don’t have to pussy-foot around how you really feel by saying something that you read on a website, or by trying to be amused by something outside of a woman that you find physically attractive.

This isn't to say that you can't have natural and honest routines. It could be helpful to make a fantasy that resonates with your core – and put the woman that you are attracted to into it. Then make that fantasy a reality – feel how good it feels to live it out sexually, emotionally, and psychologically. If she does not want to be part of this fantasy it is perfectly fine – as long as you are honest about having it and bringing it into your reality. Don’t be afraid to tell her that you have made a fantasy with her. Don’t give away the details but be willing to naturally enjoy her and your own ability to make your imagination into a reality. I happen to naturally love fantasies and women have made a fucking market for them.



Having acknowledged this recent revelation, last Saturday didn’t go well (not today.) Everywhere I went I felt like I didn’t know what to say. I saw one beautiful girl at the beginning of the night, and came on strong but didn’t know what to say or do after. All I could think of internally was, “I like her breasts,” and at the time I did not think that I should compliment her on her body. I had nothing else to say and should have tastefully told her why I honestly felt compelled to talk to her. The rest of the night was pretty much the same. Everyone was in their mid-30s and I felt like I didn’t know what to do.

I don’t see a reason to type up any specific instances – I think that everyone knows this feeling and it won’t help anyone (especially me) to analyze everything I did wrong.

My sister came home early so I don’t have a house to myself but – whatever. If I want the intimacy that often comes with a relationship - I may need to find a woman that has her own house/apartment.

I feel like I've been trying to emulate every other cool pick up journal I've seen. This post doesn't really follow a formula and it's more stream of consciousness about my last Saturday and western religious ideology rather than a step by step account (I basically had a bunch of words which I needed to vomit.)

------------------------------------------


On late nights and early mornings, Morristown is sex and romance (but really just sex.) At 2 am the town loses any bit of cheeky romance that it initially uses to seduce its visitors. It becomes pure sex. It’s 2:15 am. This is when men become hungry beasts and when women long to have haughty fangs penetrate their deepest spirit. The lights, the air, the noises are all intensely intimate foreplay for an impending tongue exploring the innards of my face. Every sound vibrating off the walls inside of my head is power, surrender, and love. I am no longer my physical body or some vague spiritual deity. I am this very moment expressing itself in a suit of flesh moving towards Godliness through relief from the eternal. I am the fullness of sex and the emptiness of the deep satisfying sleep afterwards. All of this is not being realized through thought but feeling. It is the difference between tasting a tender, marinated steak that peels right off of a bone, and reading an essay on it. It doesn’t matter how long, how moving, or how compelling the work is because it cannot encompass the experience itself. I’m feeling this revelation cyclically perpetuating itself inside the core of my being, while kissing the shit out of some beautiful, delicate young girl, carrying her with her legs wrapped around me in embrace.

One of my only friends, Greg is standing their watching me trying to describe the indescribable – writing an essay on marinated steak in his head. He’s a terribly logical soul and wants to decipher women – understand why they do the crazy shit they do. It’s like lassoing a hurricane or trying to catch water with your hands and having it slip back into the sea. I want to push him into a situation that he would otherwise talk about insistently. Analyzing the same shit over and over like that can’t be healthy – he’s like a twelve year old who just discovered their how to masturbate.

I feel like some promiscuous prophet, inebriated both literally and spiritually with a force infinitely greater than myself. There is a female majority in my family who would vehemently oppose my enjoying any and all of this.

Against all Darwinian logic, I am convinced that they would rather me be celibate and take on a personal love-affair with Jesus. I swear, sometimes it sounds to me like Jesus is the greatest omnipotent boyfriend since Krishna. That Aryan complexion, that piercing stare that whispers, “I love you – surrender to me.”

And talk about commitment. That motherfucker died for you, you selfish prick! Look at his hands. That isn’t a carpentry accident – he did that for you. Show some gratitude Goddamnit. Love that man with all your heart and don’t fuck until he says so! Don’t even act like you want to fuck. Outside of marriage that instinct is not right. It is a test and if, God-forbid; you choose to give into it you’ll be sinning. That beautiful, wonderful, selfless man died just for you so cut that shit out. Go masturbate in a corner and play board games and have bible studies with the opposite sex. Sure it’s not completely natural. It’s even better than natural – it’s Godly.

For an unattractive woman, I can see the inherent value to it. You get the ultimate boyfriend and he couldn’t care less what you look like. Plus Jesus is automatically way more interested in you than anyone else could or possibly should be because it is his nature to love you infinitely more than anyone can attempt to comprehend.

Fuck that guy that you secretly have a crush on and actively try to ignore and act disinterested in because you know that he would never consider going out with you. You’re personal savior Jesus Christ could kick his ass for all of eternity and make him cry like a little bitch. Not that you would want that – you would much rather that he just get saved so that both of you can worship your boyfriend forever and ever. Amen.