The inevitable moment has arrived where I prefer to go out at night alone than with a wingman. I no longer seek the company of men when I’m focused solely on getting laid.
The first reason why is that I get approached more. It’s easier for you to approach a lone girl standing by the bar than a pair, is it not? Well you better believe it’s the same for girls, too. Only by going out alone have I had nights where I do only one or two approaches and get laid. In Copenhagen it was automatic that if I dressed up nice I’d be approached by at least three girls that passed my boner test (around the 6 range). Girls higher on the scale approach indirectly by standing right next to me while giving marathon eye contact, making it painfully easy for me to strike up a chat.
The interesting thing is I’m never the hottest guy in the bar (or even close), but her first choice for sex is a guy who is in a drunk wolf pack roaming around the bar like an idiot with a hungry look in his eye. So by being alone, not drunk, relaxed, and approachable, I get bumped up on her sex wish list.
This is where I tell you that social proof is overrated. You need it as much as you need to be over six feet tall. Now I play the reverse social proof angle by almost bragging to girls that I’m alone and have zero friends (dolo proof). I lost count how many girls have told me it was “cool” and “intriguing,” which is contrary to what game logic would tell you. Social proof is more for places where girls actively seek status, like nightclubs with table service, not regular bars and chill neighborhood spots you should be going to.
The second reason I like to go out alone is that I experience fewer logistical problems and drama. It’s so hard at my age to find a guy that I’m compatible with, thanks to my firmly established quirks and neuroses, that I’ve mostly given up on making new friends. The random local guys I befriend usually have an inferior level of game with horrible instincts and an incomplete understanding of wingman rules. He can make a mistake on a girl in the group that gets attributed to me, he can blow my spot by revealing too much information he wasn’t supposed to, or he can do an infinite amount of stupid shit that raises my blood pressure and makes it harder for me to get laid.
The best time a wingman is useful is when there is a pair of girls, but even then the odds that both of you will match up with each girl and get the hookup is so low that is has happened to me less than five times over the past ten years.
While wingmen help you get into a social mood, perhaps their most suitable function, I’ve found a suitable replacement: watching an episode of Seinfeld before going out. A few laughs from Kramer and the gang get my mind ready to duplicate the same sarcasm and playful nature on girls at the bar. Even this type of prep work is necessary because while solo you’re given a pass for having a more low energy vibe since, well, you’re alone. You don’t need to be amped up, you don’t need to dance like a monkey, and you don’t need to pretend you’re having a great time with a fake smile on your face. You don’t even need to bob your head to the music. You have carte blanche for initially appearing “boring.”
I appreciate and value male comradery, but I no longer care for finding new wingmen. If I’m passing through a city for a few months, sex is far more important than a short-term wingman friendship with a guy. Even if I go back to DC and find out my boys have wives, my instinct will be to go out alone rather than meet new guys. Your game will arrive at the point where other guys will fuck things up and make things harder instead of enhancing your chances of pulling. I will admit that I prefer a life of bountiful sex than hanging out with guys who aren’t exactly on the same page as myself.
