TL:DR. There's always someone with a bigger wallet, faster car, more muscles and more power. Don't take it personal when they show up and you're outgunned.

Main: I'll assume those of you reading this have already browsed the sidebar material.

Let's dive into it with a story. One day this past summer I took my Camaro for a drive. It just so happens in this small town someone else owned a model of the same body style, but older with a less powerful engine. Basically that older Camaro could only be smoked by a Camaro newer then it.

Which was just the car I happened to be driving down the main drag. I wound up behind a beat up truck and OlderCamaro when the two hit the gas at a stoplight. To no ones surprise the truck lost. The OlderCamaro still has the used car dealer temp sticker and pulls to the side , blasting shit rap music and revving his motor. Damn shame, the ride was in great shape and deserved a better owner then some high school DudeBro.

Next stoplight its me vs him. Now the pickup truck dudes are acting like total jackasses, yelling and fist bumping the air because they're about to see 5.7L of Karma get laid down. Until I rolled up behind him OlderCamaro was the king shit. He owned that street for all of five minutes, and then he got served .

So it goes for the sexual marketplace. I've boned and declined enough taken pussy to realize that little street race encompasses the nature of the SMP. You can make yourself into the baddest version of yourself you can be, and still strike out because someone more badass just showed up.

That's The Game, y'all. At any time in an interaction with a female she may discover a Better Guy Then You. Just like we always look for hot women, they're always looking for the Better Guy. We can hustle, lift, game and evolve from Ford Pinto to McClaren F1 status in terms of SMV. 99% of the time a McClaren will stomp anything on the road with ease....until he lines up next to a Bugatti Veyron one day.

You'll be grooving, in the zone, ready to close a girl. Then POW...millionaire walks into the bar. Maybe the mayors jacked son shows up with an entourage. Mid sentence, she's gone and off to push for a ride with The New Alpha.

One day, your plate goes radio silent. Then you find out through the grapevine she's banging a national Rodeo champ. Just like the 1/4 mile, you smoke and sometimes you get smoked. All part of the hustle.

Lessons Learned: It's all in the Game. Don't take it personal, any more then I'd take it personal if I lost a drag race.