I had two first experiences with game. The earlier one was unintentional, the later one was a deliberate execution.
In ninth grade a curly-haired girl had a crush on me. I didn’t know this at the time, mostly because my attention was diverted to my own crush, a brunette with a righteous ass and hair so shiny it looked like it was polished.
Curly-haired girl invited me to a party at her parents’ house. In her basement with about fifteen other classmates, we listened to music (no drinking) and laughed a lot. She giggled around me and was constantly breaking away from the main group to come over and talk to me in private.
In an act of cruelty only a young man oblivious to the repercussions of his actions could achieve, I remember asking her if shiny-haired girl was coming to her party. Assuming I came to her party because I wanted to reciprocate her feelings, she stammered and blushed at this jarring question, before answering no.
“Ok, no big deal,” I replied.
I wasn’t paying much attention to her reaction, but if I had been I’m sure I would have noticed her heart fall to the floor.
The next week, curly-haired girl passed a note to me in the cafeteria. (It went through about three girls’ hands before landing next to my lunch.) It was a stick figure drawing of her face (or maybe it was mine, hard to tell) with a heart over the head. Underneath, she wrote that she liked hanging out with me.
She was a cute girl, but at that age infatuations grip one’s focus to the exclusion of all other girls. I was crushing on shiny-haired girl and no other girl would do, and that’s that. Luckily, I grew out of it by tenth grade. It’s strange, but evolution has designed men to be more pedestalizing when they are young. Some men never grow out of it. This is a gender flaw of malehood, and one that should be rectified by wise fathers. If I had a son in high school, I would tell him to put his crushes in perspective and enjoy the company of the hundreds of equally cute girls who roam his high school halls, lest he risk turning into a sniveling beta once the cold, harsh real world comes calling.
The above was my first foray into aloof, indifferent take-away game, and holy shit did it work. Curly-haired girl nursed a crush on me right through senior year.
***
My first experience with calculated, conscious game happened at an outdoor cafe. She approached with a mutual group of friends to be introduced to me. She was hot as balls. Slender, tall, chiseled cheekbones like a model, pert tits, and dressed in a very sexy black dress.
I was taken aback. She was a hard 9. Incredibly, she was sweet-natured as well. Very easy to talk to.
Through sheer fortitude, and with some help from being socially proofed, we spent the night together chatting. I was new to the game — the schematic, systematized game, not the organic game that I had been running for years by mimicking naturals and avoiding pitfalls based on personal experience — and when she asked if I would be joining her and her two friends who were planning to split off to go to a different venue, I remembered what I learned and declined the invitation. Following a girl around town like a puppy dog, no matter how well the conversation is going, is a seduction-killer.
My friends gave me a hard time for turning down a night with a bonafide hottie, but I knew better. “Patience,” I told them. “You’ll soon see magic.”
A few days later I called her and arranged a date. Then, a day before the date, I canceled, offering a plausible excuse, though I had no good reason to do so. A week later, I called again to reschedule the date we never had, and she expressed shock that I would call her.
“I thought you weren’t interested. You canceled our date.”
I ignored the stinky bait and set up a meeting at a local pool hall.
I bounced her to three different locations during the date. I knew this was the smart play based on what I had read in the game literature. “Time distortion”, the players called it. Bouncing causes a girl to think she has spent more time with you than she actually has, which in turn makes her more comfortable with you and riper for the sexing.
Later that night, I took her to an outdoor spot to watch the stars twinkle. It was summer, and the warm night air beckoned. As we sat there gazing at the sky, the conversation became deeper, filled with anticipated meaning. During this stage of the seduction, I prepared to execute one psychologically brutal mindfuck in the form of a take-away. I knew I had to do this because such a hot girl was likely a pro at transitioning suitors into the friend zone. I had to disabuse her of any urge she might feel to do that to me.
Somewhere in the midst of our conversation about the value of long term relationships, I asserted, “I’m independent, I value my freedom.” I made sure to say this with retreating body language. I moved my arm off her back and leaned away.
She didn’t respond to that, but seemed chastened a bit.
I dropped her off at her house, where I fingerbanged her in my car. We were together for two years.
***
Men who learn game experience two revelations. One, they are amazed how well it works once they begin to apply it. Two, they remember all those past moments with girls on whom they had run game unknowingly, and the reason for their successes becomes illuminated as if it were etched on stone tablets and handed down from god.
While I had some rudimentary natural skills with women, once I learned systematized game — the science of seduction — I stepped onto an accelerated track to pleasures I couldn’t believe were available for the taking. There’s been no looking back since.
March 16, 2011 by CH
I had two first experiences with game. The earlier one was unintentional, the later one was a deliberate execution.
In ninth grade a curly-haired girl had a crush on me. I didn’t know this at the time, mostly because my attention was diverted to my own crush, a brunette with a righteous ass and hair so shiny it looked like it was polished.
Curly-haired girl invited me to a party at her parents’ house. In her basement with about fifteen other classmates, we listened to music (no drinking) and laughed a lot. She giggled around me and was constantly breaking away from the main group to come over and talk to me in private.
In an act of cruelty only a young man oblivious to the repercussions of his actions could achieve, I remember asking her if shiny-haired girl was coming to her party. Assuming I came to her party because I wanted to reciprocate her feelings, she stammered and blushed at this jarring question, before answering no.
“Ok, no big deal,” I replied.
I wasn’t paying much attention to her reaction, but if I had been I’m sure I would have noticed her heart fall to the floor.
The next week, curly-haired girl passed a note to me in the cafeteria. (It went through about three girls’ hands before landing next to my lunch.) It was a stick figure drawing of her face (or maybe it was mine, hard to tell) with a heart over the head. Underneath, she wrote that she liked hanging out with me.
She was a cute girl, but at that age infatuations grip one’s focus to the exclusion of all other girls. I was crushing on shiny-haired girl and no other girl would do, and that’s that. Luckily, I grew out of it by tenth grade. It’s strange, but evolution has designed men to be more pedestalizing when they are young. Some men never grow out of it. This is a gender flaw of malehood, and one that should be rectified by wise fathers. If I had a son in high school, I would tell him to put his crushes in perspective and enjoy the company of the hundreds of equally cute girls who roam his high school halls, lest he risk turning into a sniveling beta once the cold, harsh real world comes calling.
The above was my first foray into aloof, indifferent take-away game, and holy shit did it work. Curly-haired girl nursed a crush on me right through senior year.
***
My first experience with calculated, conscious game happened at an outdoor cafe. She approached with a mutual group of friends to be introduced to me. She was hot as balls. Slender, tall, chiseled cheekbones like a model, pert tits, and dressed in a very sexy black dress.
I was taken aback. She was a hard 9. Incredibly, she was sweet-natured as well. Very easy to talk to.
Through sheer fortitude, and with some help from being socially proofed, we spent the night together chatting. I was new to the game — the schematic, systematized game, not the organic game that I had been running for years by mimicking naturals and avoiding pitfalls based on personal experience — and when she asked if I would be joining her and her two friends who were planning to split off to go to a different venue, I remembered what I learned and declined the invitation. Following a girl around town like a puppy dog, no matter how well the conversation is going, is a seduction-killer.
My friends gave me a hard time for turning down a night with a bonafide hottie, but I knew better. “Patience,” I told them. “You’ll soon see magic.”
A few days later I called her and arranged a date. Then, a day before the date, I canceled, offering a plausible excuse, though I had no good reason to do so. A week later, I called again to reschedule the date we never had, and she expressed shock that I would call her.
“I thought you weren’t interested. You canceled our date.”
I ignored the stinky bait and set up a meeting at a local pool hall.
I bounced her to three different locations during the date. I knew this was the smart play based on what I had read in the game literature. “Time distortion”, the players called it. Bouncing causes a girl to think she has spent more time with you than she actually has, which in turn makes her more comfortable with you and riper for the sexing.
Later that night, I took her to an outdoor spot to watch the stars twinkle. It was summer, and the warm night air beckoned. As we sat there gazing at the sky, the conversation became deeper, filled with anticipated meaning. During this stage of the seduction, I prepared to execute one psychologically brutal mindfuck in the form of a take-away. I knew I had to do this because such a hot girl was likely a pro at transitioning suitors into the friend zone. I had to disabuse her of any urge she might feel to do that to me.
Somewhere in the midst of our conversation about the value of long term relationships, I asserted, “I’m independent, I value my freedom.” I made sure to say this with retreating body language. I moved my arm off her back and leaned away.
She didn’t respond to that, but seemed chastened a bit.
I dropped her off at her house, where I fingerbanged her in my car. We were together for two years.
***
Men who learn game experience two revelations. One, they are amazed how well it works once they begin to apply it. Two, they remember all those past moments with girls on whom they had run game unknowingly, and the reason for their successes becomes illuminated as if it were etched on stone tablets and handed down from god.
While I had some rudimentary natural skills with women, once I learned systematized game — the science of seduction — I stepped onto an accelerated track to pleasures I couldn’t believe were available for the taking. There’s been no looking back since.
