When it comes to game, guys are like Jews: Five guys, six opinions.
Why do guys have so many different opinions on game? There are two reasons. The first reason is shitty, and we’ll dispose of it quickly.
Lots of guys like to argue just for the sake of arguing. Most people who know nothing can’t shut the fuck up and sit still. They need to contribute something – even if it has no value – just to feel good about themselves. If I had to guess, most guys posting on game message boards haven’t had 10 lifetime sexual partners.
Yet there are guys who are getting laid who disagree about game. Guys disagree because of our different backgrounds and personality types.
I scoped an advanced copy of Roosh’s 30 Bangs. In 30 Bangs, Roosh talks about some of his early lays. In reading the book, one cannot help but realize something.
Roosh is a nice guy, who in a different era, would be married with children. He probably had a pretty good childhood, and didn’t have any real issues.
His style of game is thus very chill.
For whatever reason, in about the third grade I became the target of bullies. I got beat up a lot, and had to choose between learning to fight or finding some other way to avoid being bullied.
I spent hours (really, hundreds of hours) beating a heavy bag while listening to Guns ‘N Roses. I read books by samurai philosophers. I ordered Chinese herbs out of kung fu movies, and when I saw Bloodsport, decided to toughen my skins by kicking progressively thicker pieces of wood.
In an article about Benny “The Jet” Urquidez, I learned that kick boxers would toughen their bodies up by beating each other or themselves with rolled up magazines. I would take my shirt off and ask my dad to smack my body.
I even thought a bamboo sword and would hit myself. As a parlor trick for friends, I’d stand in place with my skin exposes, and tell them to hit me as hard as possible with a broom handle.
I was not born a natural fighter, but got really good at fighting, and as a freshman, I was the toughest kid in school. When a couple of seniors were going to “initiate me,” I suggested we fight after school. They didn’t show up, and word got around not to mess with me.
Since my genetics for fighting were not great (I was a chubby kid with high levels of empathy), I had to develop an incredible force of will. I did not endure pain because it was easy: I willed myself through it.
Now what do you suppose happens to a guy who beats his body up with rolled magazines and spends the weekends doing 10, 3-minute rounds on the heavy bag?
I became downright scary. I developed the gaze of a serial killer.
Once while in New York for Model UN, a friend and I went to a bar. I was dancing by myself, curious why girls kept turning me down.
A very cute girl – better looking than anything I had pulled – came up to me. “My friends dared me to go dance with the scary guy.”
Girls never said I gave off the creepy vibe. Creepiness is a sign of weakness. I was scary.
After a girl I had the worst puppy love crush on told me, “I always wanted to talk to you, but was afraid,” I had to learn some game.
Thus, much of game is devoted to toning myself down. Shaving my face makes me look like, in one girl’s words, “a Russian serial killer.” I always keep a little scruff to soften my look.
If you are a hard ass who wears fashionable clothing – I’ve taken to cardigans – girls view you as edgy and dangerous rather than scary.
Yet my aggression and combativeness have become as natural to me as my skin color. My friends accuse me of having “Rape Game,” not because of how I act when a girl is in the bedroom, but because of my aggression in the clubs. If I like a girl, I just grab her arm and pull her towards me.
My friends also laugh, because my Rape Game works. When girls say, “Wow, you’re aggressive,” it’s natural to reply, “I take what I want.”
I never worry about guys “AMOG’ing” me, because guys just don’t pull that bullshit around me. One guy who rarely goes out says, “I love going out with you guys, because you just take over a place.”
My style of game wouldn’t work for an insecure guy, though. You need Supreme Confidence to walk into a room, make eye contact with everyone, and think, “I could fuck any girl or fuck up any guy.”
Thus, it’s important to remember that there is no right or wrong style of game. Each guy has to find the style that suits his psychological temperament.
A guy who finds a style of game right for him is indistinguishable from a natural.