Tonight was better night than last weekend.

I managed to not throw a childish temper tantrum in front of my friends and smash some stuff in frustration. Rather, I waited until I got home before I put my fist through the wall. That's progress.

I've been working on my game - if you can even call it that at this point - for thirteen months now. Every weekend I go out at least once to a different venue to try and work on my shit. I've had exactly zero lays and so many failures I've stopped counting (somewhere around 10 a night for 52 weeks... you do the math). 390 days ago, on April 24, 2013 was the last time I got laid. I know this because I broke up with my ex 2 days later. I've actually stopped carrying condoms since they've become the albatross in my pocket, and a reminder of what I won't be needing tonight unless a spontaneous water fight breaks out.

I've devoured the side-bar. I can recite all the theories verbatim. Pook and Rollo are my companions. My friends make it look so easy - they'll go up to a woman, say something, and within 10 minutes she's throwing herself at them. I'll go up to a woman, say something and in all cases so far, I'll get about a minute or two and she'll look for an escape to run back to her friends. I think I actually have negative game - I've inadvertently cock-blocked my friends by trying to talk them up.

Fuck me. Is this how far I've fallen?

It's not a weight thing: I lift, and my buddy tonight is 40lbs heavier than I am and in way worse shape. He had the third woman he talked to (a 6 foot, 120lb blonde) wanting to jump his bone. It blew my mind. It's not a looks thing: I have no glaring asymmetries in my face, perfect teeth, no scars, no acne. The only 'off' thing is my ears stick out. Eliminating the physical, I can only conclude that it's a me thing: to have this much shit luck defies any sort of odds. Fuck, even a blind squirrel finds the odd nut. Obviously you can't have confidence if you have no success, but you can't even fake it if you have nothing to back it up.

Is there a point where you just have to accept defeat? I'm a success in every other part of my life; is success with women the piece I have to sacrifice for that success? Can you ever just accept that 'game' is something you'll never be good at, and you're destined to wait until some post-wall reformed slut decides she's ready to get off the ride? I don't want to, but it would make my life a lot less painful if I could.

"If you think you're going through hell, keep going."

This has become my mantra and my touchstone. I'm in a grinding soul-crushing sort of hell. I go out, try and talk to women and get laid, and end up angry and frustrated by the end of the night. It never changes, it never gets better, and I have no answers. After all, the only way I could possibly do any worse than I'm already doing is to give up. But I'm nearing that point: I have nothing left. No answers, no theories, no light at the end of the tunnel.

I don't even have a way to end this. I just need a place to put my thoughts before they consume me.