A Love Story
Enter the fray, a mini-herd of four fat girls dressed semi-slutty, looking poised for a photo shoot in the newest edition of FleshGirlMagazine. I’m sitting at the far corner of the train, and to my dismay, they gather around to graze over the adjacent seats. I catch them mid-conversation discussing double standards, women in power, and the shortcomings of today’s men. At the third topic, one of them instigates me into the conversation, finding it funny that I was the sole guy who was forced into playing a political version of hungry-hungry hippo. I was already boiling inside, ready for a chance to mentally spar with these 4 idiots, hopefully breaking one of their egos to the point of no return. I had class in an hour; I needed my fix.
Flashback to several years ago. I’m on the train heading back to college. I have ego problems, I’m far less humble, and more than willing to indulge people in arguments. I didn’t understand the politicization of feminism, nor did I have a refined grasp of game. I thought I knew women, but thinking back now, I was an idiot. My understanding of the world was clouded by my own preconceptions, and my mind was diseased by its own vanity. I thought I was smarter than everyone else, and anyone who could not understand my reasoning was by virtue, a moron. I saw myself as Voltaire, as Oscar Wilde. I thought it would’ve be appropriate if I adorned a monocle and a cane, or perhaps a velvet cape and a stretchy boa.
I have a fairly crystal recollection of the details. Some of the dialogue may need improvisations, but I trust it will be similar enough to the original conversation to express the same meaning. I quote their parts collectively, as I wouldn’t be able to recall their names (not even sure if I knew them).
Fat Girls: “Haiiiii, are you upset that we’re bashing on men?” [giggles like a horny ogre, like one of those extras from Shrek]
Me: “Bashing on men? I just think you guys aren’t smart enough to understand the world properly” [Perhaps almost a neg, but far too harsh. I wasn’t out to neg them, I was pissed and was out for blood]
Fat Girls: “Oh and you are?”
Me: “Yah, I have common sense.”
Fat Girls: “Oh ok, so why don’t you enlighten us, Confucius?”
I didn’t read people as fast as I could now, nor as systematically. I relied more on intuition. I had a feeling that they were all in a sorority together. I imagined a house on top of a hill, depressing the height of the hill through the sheer weight of its inhabitants. I imagined parties organized by these behemoths, to trick men into getting too drunk and sticking their swindled penises into gaping vulvas capable of putting the valley of kings to shame. I imagined them riding skinny guys to death in an Amazon Derby.
Me: “Why do you think guys are like this in today’s society?”
Fat Girls: “Because they’re all fat and lazy”
Fat Girls: “And assholes, because they’re insecure”
I asked a question because despite knowing that rationalizing with women is not the correct way to talk to them, I did not APPLY that knowledge. I was aiming instead to use a socratic type of method, asking questions to eventually get them to realize their own ignorance. What an idiot I was. I thought if logic doesn’t work; brute naked logic might work. If I could spell it out in a clear and perfectly synthesized thesis, how could they not see their own follies?
The presumed correlation between asshole and insecure is parallel to the presumed correlation between being Hot and being a bitch. I suspect it to be a defensive conjecture, projecting the exploitation of ones own insecurity as sourced in the insecurities of the invader. Unfortunately, most assholes, at least the uncaring Alpha assholes, are above and beyond *social* insecurities. As for the assumption made by guys; that results from implicit biases in our understanding of beauty, especially in more vivid forms. For the most part, very good-looking girls are DIFFERENT than their seemingly impaired counterparts, but they are no more “bitchy.” In fact, in my experience they are far better suited to be girlfriends, while the bitch-gauntlet belongs more to women of average or below average fairness who, through a wicked combination of an inflated need for assessment, an appetite for preening, and certain genetic predilections, find it more necessary to act in the manner of succubi. Of course, I could be wrong. Temporary beauty can be made eternal with the right choices.
Me: “What…?” [seemingly disoriented from the sheer irony of calling other people fat]
Fat Girls: “You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”
Me: “Uhh…yah, I do” [Big mistake, one I would never make now. Not only was I lying but the question she asked was phrased in a way to make me qualify myself, or disqualify myself. Even by saying yes and “proving her wrong,” so to say, I prove only my NEED to prove her wrong. My impulse to lash out got the better of me]
We exchange a few more words, a bit of a tension ensues. We argue about feminism, society, and men, with me at one end getting more and more pissed. The train comes to a halt; two of my friends were to enter at this point (Hermit, and someone else). I call them to let them know what car I’m in.
Fat Girls: “Reinforcements?”
Me: “Yah, don’t eat them.”
Fat Girls: “Why don’t you sit with your boyfriends somewhere else?”
Me: “Why, would it be too difficult for you guys to squeeze through the door to the next car?”
Shit gets heated, clearly getting a kick out of fucking with me. We eventually get to school, the aftertaste of the engagement still bitter in my mind.
But of course, I had no mercy at the time, and couldn’t let go of what happened. I saw them a few times throughout the week, making it a point to make fun of them every time they passed by. And not the regular make fun of, I mean I would yell some really crude shit across the dining area. By the third day this happened, one came over to spill her drink on me. My annoyance was pulsing; I reacted by spilling coffee on her satin dress, which could’ve doubled as a shawl for a baby elephant. Luckily, I was wearing sweats and a white t-shirt so nothing tragic happened to my clothes. Obviously I had come off the victor. Several of the workers came to break the scene apart; I got one last quip in before I left, “save a twinkie for me.” Back then I thought this was what asshole game was about.
I got back to my room, ate some shit, studied for twenty minutes, sketched out more of a business idea I had (one of my many college ventures destined to fail), hit the gym for an hour, and then thought about fapping. Meh I thought, I was going to a shindig later, I should save my boner in case I met someone there. The last thing you want is a soft wish washy boner when a girl grabs you.
I fapped anyways.
Fast-forward a few hours. Hermit and me are surveying the field, a mass congregation of herbs supplicating to everything but the walls in the room with a few Alphas in between running c/f. I couldn’t dissect social dynamics as easily at the time, but I imagine I must’ve been bewildered.
And then of course, like all great stories, this one had a damsel.
“Holy shit” I thought when she walked in. Wish I didn’t fap. In my eyes, a flawless ten. Light brown eyes, just like you’d expect in the movies. Back then I didn’t have “game,” in the methodical sense of the term, I just knew how to carry myself and how to talk to girls. I could tell Hermit was thinking the same thing, but it mattered not. Even if I had a visible STD protruding out of my clothes, I could out game all of my friends.
But in this case, I didn’t need to. When you see an 8 or a 9, sometimes your game gets shaky. Perhaps an instinct to qualify yourself in front of her, perhaps the people around you, or maybe you’re coming out of a slump. But in those rare circumstances where you come across a 10, an etched masterpiece, a magnificently captivating face and body, the numerous social faux pas nursing your anxieties wilt away in the presence of a far more carnal instinct.
I used my ultimate opener. My most secret of weapons. A lethal line, something I feel obliged to share with all of you.
“Hi”
First we talked, then we chatted, then we flirted, then we walked around for some fresh air. Hermit wanted to give me a high-five on my way out, but I relented. Even in my more coarse form back then, I never took part in anything that I thought “degraded” women absent an impulse to do so (see above example with fat chicks). To put women down for the sake of seduction is an art; to put women down for the sake of your ego is to defile that art.
Within the course of three days, I was in love. Of course I continued to see myself as a lone idol (ensuring her pedestal was never even close to the one I put myself on), but that didn’t stop me from loving her. Laugh if you may, but I am sure you know the feeling. All men, no, all humans, are romantics deep inside. Perhaps not in the ethereal sense of the term, but surely they are swathed by emotion at point or another. You may say, “you were just infatuated with her,” to which I would reply, what is love, but a greater degree of infatuation induced by a greater degree of perfection?
By the end of two weeks, I was in a tense and cognizant state of euphoria. On one hand I felt captured. It was crazy how the qualities of this girl matched up so well. She appreciated humor, barely shit tested, and had only 1 previous boyfriend, who was also her only previous partner. On the other hand, I remained tensely aware of every minute flaw because I was LOOKING to wake myself up from this dream. I could see myself catching Oneitis, as most men probably do. But how do you stop such a thing? And then there were the issues of the flaws themselves. I had Oneitis before, but I could easily discern the veil. My friends could tell me “Are you fucking stupid? She took a dick in the ass right after you guys broke up.” But no, Hermit had nothing to point out besides telling me “don’t change who you are if you fall for her.” I analyzed her behaviors and looked for incongruences with surgical precision, but nothing.
Even if I find out she has some great mistake about her, perhaps she’s an alien, what’s to stop me from enjoying her company now? Secks was something otherworldly, which only supplemented my alien theory. To this day it could stand to argue that secks with her was the best secks I’ve ever had. She wanted me to meet her friends, and I happily agreed. I’d charm them I thought, perhaps find someone for Hermit, or just add colors of competitive anxiety to our soon to be relationship.
So I get ready and head to the restaurant to meet her and her friends. I bring Hermit a long. She said she wanted me to bring flowers, so I stringed together a handful of grass and one dandelion from outside my building. I saw her hair from across the table. And her friends… the fat girls from the train.
Me: “Oh shit…”
Hermit: “Wait…are those?”
Me: “Fuck.”
Hermit: “Let’s book it. Say you suddenly realized you had scabies”
Me: “We’re already here, she saw me.”
Hermit: “Just go in and play it smooth”
To say an Alpha Male could handle himself in strange situations does no justice to how strange this situation was. Confidence and aloofness would not be enough here, especially if these girls decided to throw a pie in my face or something. But that wasn’t the silver bullet.
I sit, awkwardness follows. I’ll spare you the details. But eventually it comes to this:
Fat girl: “Didn’t you say you had a girlfriend?”
Me: “We broke up”
Fat girl: In a couple of weeks? How long have you guys been like… dating? [pointing to me and my 10]
I could not tell you what my soon-to-be-not-girlfriend felt at the moment. In her eyes, she only had secks with her boyfriend after a year of dating (beta). With me, she did it in 2 weeks and without an official relationship (I was waiting for her to claim it). In her eyes, she “gave herself” to me, and I, was the “typical asshole” who squandered such virtues.
A twisted smile touched the fat girl. I knew what was coming next. She dumped her drink on me, and left wordlessly. More than anything, I wondered why the cosmos had granted her this opportunity. My soon-to-be-not-girlfriend followed and the other hippos followed in suit. Hermit looked at me sympathetically for 10 seconds. Then started laughing.
And at this point I wish I could tell you that I had Jedi Game and it solved everything, But I did not. All I had was an experience that taught me a lesson, one of many that would cultivate the Jedi Game I have today.
best post ever
hey Shark, what do you think about the types of girls that are making our game harder to be played.
is there also some Alphaness or Betaness in girls, how can you tell when a 7 can mess with minds like a perfect Alpha, i belive something like certain cues will lead us to the point of being aware and actually PLAY with a qualified opponent with all your best lines and moves.
Hello Shark!
That was quite a story! Her friends turning out to be the fat girls from the train makes it almost seem made-up. How could the universe be so against you on that day?
I have my own dilemma. I hope that you can help me.
Got out of a 4 yrs relationship and did the beta thing of moving across the country back with family and friends. I wasn’t recuperating well and became a shut-in rarely ever going out.
It is last mid October and I go out with a bunch of guys to a friend’s bachelor party. We wind up at a strip club. This one’s in a very questionable part of town but the club itself and the girls are top-notch. After getting situated by the bar, girls are swarming us trying to give us all sorts of bar dances. I hold eye-contact with this one dancing on the stage. Something about her got me or maybe it was that I had stopped thinking about my ex for those 2 seconds. She walks over past the guys in my clique and stops in front of me. She got the call. I wasn’t there trying to pick on anybody…. I was hurt and needed a distraction. I quickly ask her and we go in the back for some lap dances. I’m grabbed by the rest of the crew as I walk back out and I’m rushed outside to catch the party bus.
The next week, I show up by myself. She smiles as she recognizes me from the stage. This time, I go for the champagne room. I don’t seem to care about money, game or the fact that I am the only white guy in the entire place. She seems surprised and drawn to my recklessness. I just wanted to feel once more what I got a taste for a week ago. I’m drunk off the champagne and she is asking me more personal questions. I spill the beans about my recent break-up and even answer as she is asking me details about the ex. I knew that they all do this to establish a connection with whoever they want as a regular. I saw no harm in it at the time. As I am walking out, she asks me for my number saying that we should hang out sometimes. That was something I didn’t know was part of her repertoire.
I continue seeing her at the club and soon we meet outside.
For our first date, I picked her up from her parent’s house. I bring flowers because I had stupidly listened to a female friend say “all types of girls love a gentleman… get her some flowers”. So I do the gentleman thing. I figure that if I show her a different side, if I shower her with kindness and respect instead of treating her like the piece of meat 99.9% of the gangstas do at the club, I may have a chance at impressing her. The body language during the dinner date was hopeful, I thought. Knees pointed towards mine, touching at times. My arm lightly patting her upper back and shoulders as we were laughing after jokes. She even has me meet her parents as I drop her back home. I make some small talk with them as they ask about our date and she leaves them with their mouths open as she informs that I am to drop her off at work.
This was about as good as it got, unfortunately. It is her birthday soon and she starts talking about this pair of shoes she really wants. They’re in the vicinity of a G but I order it for her anyways. Turns out to be the wrong size and it gets shipped back and forward a few times over the months until it fits. Christmas time is around the corner and I tell her my idea of gifts and she gets them for me. I made sure to give her less expensive gifts than she got me. I invite her to a Christmas party that my brother and his wife are throwing. I know it falls on a Saturday (big money night for her) so I propose to re-compensate her on some of her money but she declines and comes anyway.
We’re in the private room of the club. She grabs me and says to think really well and hard. She asks me if I wanted to be fuck buddies or if I wanted a chance at something worthwhile. She knew I’d pick the later. She’d done her homework well.
It is the end of December and she starts reciprocating some of my past relationship talk with her own. This guy she’s been on-and-off with for the last 8 yrs wants her back. She gives me his name as she quickly labels him a man-whore having 3 different kids by 3 different women. I say nothing. She knows I don’t have any kids and I am already “the nice guy”. We had an argument where she talks about feeling pressured by me and then a discussion as she calls me the next day where we agree to take things slow. The months go by and we keep going on our dinner dates and the occasional movie. By this time, I am knee-deep in Oneitis with this stripper that I haven’t even slept with. I’m buying her things… expensive things… I am her walking wallet.
She flips the script and tells me to really watch my spending and to start saving. I tell her that my finances are none of her business to which she implies that maybe she would like it to. She brings up her plan again which is to retire the dancing gig at 30. That is less than a year away now. She wants me to be able to get a nice house. Even though I’m somewhat tipsy, I can’t ignore her complete lack of judgement. She’s talking about moving in with somebody she hasn’t even slept yet. I dismiss it as drivel and I don’t entertain it any further. She buys me an expensive gift soon after the next time we’re at the mall.
She has this weird sense of loyalty, of keeping track of the “nice things” I do for her and she reciprocates by giving lap dances that go well beyond their legal intended nature. Outside, she is the most reserved girl I’ve ever dated. Her emotions and displays of intimacy are kept exclusively to the club and they’re never talked about by either of us. Lately, she brings up sex and how I’ve been so patient with her. She talks about throwing sex into the equation and how that would be something I would always remember her by. Sounds an awful lot like a good-bye fuck.
Her on-and-off ex is back in the picture now. I see her accept him on her FaceBook. We’re suppose to hang out that Tuesday but she never answers my text from the previous night. I leave her alone as her not answering was enough to know she’s not planing to go out. Instead I’m treated by pictures of her ex with her and a bunch of other girls at a record label party late that very night. The man-whore that she so despised has is sandwiched up between her and some other chick. There are couple type pics with him and 2 different other chicks so it’s not exactly sure which one’s his date. I say nothing about it as it is just on his page and we’re not mutual friends. Days later he tags her in the pictures and they wind up on her page. By now it must be obvious to her that I have seen them. I break all contact with her and stop going to the club. She texts me for Easter with some random happy wishes text. I keep it very short and emotion-less. She texts me again the next day about just wanting to say “hi”. I text her back with an even shorter “hi there!”. The next day I text to ask if she’s working that night as I don’t want to make it obvious that I am avoiding her. I plan to go to the club and act aloof and keep the convos short. But she texts back saying that she isn’t working due to her friend’s birthday. She ends up going to the city with some girls from the club… pictures on the wall verifies it. Another day goes by and then she initiates a text that ends with her saying “hope all is well”. Suddenly I think my distance isn’t working so well.
She is a 10 in the most unicorn sense of the word! I know I can’t have a real relationship with her and that she has been stringing me from the beginning based on those very hopes. I know it’s lies and it’s pretty fucked up she had to resort to such cold measures to ensure I stuck to her. How do I make it “worthwhile” for myself in terms of just getting to fuck her once or twice? I’d leave her after that. Sechs never gets me attached even though she thinks otherwise. I know that on my death bed I’d look back at the experience with a wicked smile on my face. I know the memory would be amongst my top achievements list.
She’s pretty insecure and tends to get real jealous when I talk or tip other dancers. I gave one a ride with my car a few months ago, and she had a pretty extreme reaction to that hours later as one of her friends tipped her off about it. Was quick to label me “just like my ex would do” and texted saying how she hopes I wrapped it up and kept her name out of my mouth.
What is the best way of going about getting what I want? I’ve been “the nice guy” in her eyes even though at times she labels me “a dick”. Is it possible to re-negotiate the terms of our agreement into a mutually benefiting relationship? This is assuming she still wants me to pay as we go shopping (and I think she does that hence the checking up on me) and I would be getting sex in return. Thank you and I just realized the length of this….
I, and I’m sure others as well would definitely like to hear how you’d handle these situations if you could redo them
with the knowledge you have now.
Damn man. Feel like even crying. Damn……….
I really wonder how you did afterwards and how did you recover from that Oneitis.
Thank you
http://www.animelyrics.com/anime/bleach/bleachthanks.htm
There is no substitute for experience .
Curious though , facing that situation in the restaurant , if you had it to do over again today , what would you do differently ?
Ironically at my school I befriended a fat chick, I didn’t mean to give off the wrong signals I was just being nice, and when she walked with me towards the bus loading area you could hear people saying means things indirectly like “That’s disgusting” & “Gross” almost as if they were jealous because she became friends with the cool guy and not them. It’s different when a fat guy gets a 10 because people assume fat guy has compensating alpha attributes to snag such a hottie but if you see a handsome fellow like me with a fatty you must assume ” There must be something wrong with that guy. Even so I don’t give a fuck about what people think, tho I feel bad for my hungry-hungry hippo, I don’t want to lead her on and she dose not deserve the insults. I guess I’m going to have to drop her…
Lesson learned.
Great read. Thank you.
This is so good. Now that you’ve written the Black Flag, it’s time to start the Portrait of a Shark
I thought I had bad luck, that is crazy
Shark with Oneits! Lol!
Good Job !
I work in a hospital in one of the most dangerous cities in the country by felonies committed per capita. I work in the toughest of tough departments: not surgery, not ER, not ICU, but palliative care. In the three former departments, injury and death can come swiftly. The patients and families sometimes don’t have time to think or process what has happened. Death just comes. But not in the terminal ward. There, it doesn’t just “happen”, it isn’t an event. It’s a kind of life. It is pervasive, even all-encompassing, like being in a room where oxygen is slowly replaced by a heavier gas. Everything just slows down.
Death comes slowly enough to give me time to get to know patients – those who will, without doubt, die. The ward in which I work is inhabited mostly by the elderly. Those who have actually lived relatively long lives. Long enough to have kids, long enough to make money, long enough to have regrets. Unsurprisingly, they talk to me about their regrets, what they wished they did before dying, what they wished they hadn’t wasted so much time on. Sometimes we get younger patients as well, and they too talk about what they would have done if they had more time.
Their regrets?
- Living the life others wanted them to live, rather than carving out their own life on this planet
- Spending time doing stuff they hated, rather than working hard to accomplish something that was desirable to them
- Spending too little time with their parents/siblings/cousins/friends
- Never taking the risk to do something “crazy” like pitching an idea to the CEO of their company, or just walking up to an attractive girl and asking her out right then and there
- Making the choice to remain in a depressed stasis (and yes, happiness really is a choice for most people)
- Getting caught up in drama or getting upset when someone shamed/criticized/rejected them in various areas of life
Dying young people have similar regrets, for their age:
- Never asking that cheerleader to the prom/dance
- Not having the time to accomplish a goal that wanted (e.g. one told me he wanted to run a 4:00 mile)
- Standing up to bullies and knocking them the fuck out the next time they tried to pick on others
- Bullying others, because when you have such short time on this Earth there really isn’t a need to shit on other people
- Caring about what some girl/guy said about them on facebook or wasting time and emotional energy stupid teenage drama
- Wasting hours, days and even weeks playing video games alone
To this day, I have NEVER heard these young people say the following or any variation of the following:
- “I regret not learning The Game”
- “I regret not being cocky/funny”
- “I should have taken everything anyone has ever said to me seriously”
- “I should have paid $1000 to go to that PUA boot camp to meet Neil Strauss/Tyler Durden/Mystery/any of their copycats
- “I should have spent more time looking at Victoria’s Secret/porn/SI swimsuit/Maxim
- “I should have “fapped” more
To all of those who visit this site and write in the comments. stop letting some bitch control your life. If you have to go to a website to figure out how to deal with a certain situation some girl put you in, the girl is making your life too complicated. She’s not worth it. Break it off. Stop wasting valuable time and energy.
This site exists is to give you guideposts and to pull your head out of your own ass regarding your life. Take the themes of this site and apply them to your life. Always prevail to action, even when that action is patience. You don’t need to write a manifesto, explaining every intricate detail of your relationship problems with a girl, and asking for specific advice. Just take what you learn here and elsewhere and apply them. Don’t attach yourself to the outcome. Stop trying to control everything. Just. Let. Go. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.
I agree with your post but details are important. Behind every detail lies a reason. Even when that reason if fueled by emotions as is the case with women most of the time. Knowing what triggers their reasoning can be very helpful in advancing one’s game.
Shark,
Why do you call her previous guy a beta since it took him a year to sleep with him even though he was her first? Also, how do you deal with sexual guilt from very conservative Christian girls who have need done anything with another guy?
Great story
I had a lot of colorful words coming for you. Thank god I finished reading the story.