Recreational bodybuilding has done as much as game for me. Though a large chunk of that is probably confidence, which game teaches anyway. But the fact that I score some chicks based mostly on physical attractiveness can’t be denied.
Vincent, along the line of boosting confidence, as an entrepreneur whose fortunes fluctuate, I can tell you that wallet size has the same effect as pec size. When you are sitting on a fat wallet, you feel the force of your magnetism.
Gym, wallet, charisma, sexual ability, wit, and last and also foremost, DOMINANCE.
There was a time ten years ago in the West when it meant absolutely nothing to me to blow 1 or 2 hundred bucks on a date. It wasn’t a matter of throwing away money recklessly, it was a matter of not being able to make the slightest dent on my finances spending that much.
It made a difference with the girls, let me tell you. Impressed the hell out of them, and I started to get all these complements about – get this – my PERSONALITY.
And it was that time in my life that made a turning point for me. True, when broke I did suffer a loss of confidence. But never again did I feel the same way about myself. From then on for all the girls knew I was floating in dosh, or about to be. I was an entrepreneur with an undisclosed amount of financial backup. Always vague about. “How’s your business going?”. “Fine.” I paid for dinner regularly once fucking, but no trinkets.
Having had the taste of how women treat me when I’m wealthy changed how I perceived my attractiveness, or potential attractiveness. I suppose you could say it was the beginning of learning game.
I sometimes hear people here question the value of game, on the basis that a beta can’t change his stripes. But thousands of people have anecdotes of learning confidence, through both changing their externalities and working on their internalities.
If you want to get a taste of what fame or good looks feels like, once you have some basic dating skills, go to Asia. I swear on a stack of holy lingams that you can have a super hottie in love with you and dancing hot with a group of hotties on the bar. Or have her attract a small crowd of young super hotties and dance sexy with each other, when she isn’t taking a break to rub up against your crotch. You can date two or more girls.
After you’ve had real relationships (not pump and dumps) with ten or twenty attractive early twenties girls, you get a different sense of things. Bring that number up and you realize that you can keep this up. You can date the hottest girl in the city – or one of the hottest. You can travel to a new city and have a serious and hot girlfriend within a month or two, or just date several. If you want you can schedule a trip and get a new chaperone in each city. You can do whatever the fuck you want.
Being in Asia is like being rich, or handsome, or famous. Learn some sexual skills, charm and charisma, add to that some real wealth and a good body, and you are the man. Whatever you want.
I don’t know why I’m telling other people this. In cities where there are many expats I can’t compete at all. It only works for me in undiscovered places. I can’t compete with all those young tall handsome and fit Aussie surfers in Bali. Fuck em.
Ok – never mind what I said. Don’t go to Asia. Asia sucks.
Oh, about Asia, I’ve got to amend the comment. Because girls are girls are girls, until you learn the ropes, you WILL get played. Women fuck men over. It’s their job. It’s what they do.
The only way to learn how to pass shit tests, to not get fucked over, to learn to dominate even a stone cold player bitch, is through trial and error.
Asian girls will eat you alive and boast to their friends about it. For many, you are an industry. Not a man, an industry.
Still, you can play a player. If you play poker well, you can beat a pro. You can get these girls to fall and fall hard for you. You can enslave them. And who doesn’t want a hot young woman doting on you feverishly, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, full of wonder and devotion. Who doesn’t want that?
About numbers and momentum – there was a time in my early twenties when hot chicks intimidated me so much that I wasn’t even attracted to them. After dating my first super hot babe – a 24 year old when I was nearing thirty, my tastes changed. A mental note of this turning point was made. Hot chicks are attractive.
After non-monogamous dating in Asia, when the numbers started to climb, I started to recognize facial types in many of the girls walking down the street. Hey, she looks like that girl I used to date. I could fuck her too. You start to view the attractive women as attainable.
Sure, sometimes the stunner will leave you speechless. But after you’ve had a few stunners you know that they can find you attractive. Even fall for you. You know your power to hypnotize them. You know you are a spider, in a web. The bird thinks she’s swooping down to eat you, but you are a bird eating spider with bird strength webbing.
I want to get back to the point that I’m ugly. Some nights out on the town I couldn’t get laid by the hookers. Yes, that bad. Seriously disadvantaged.
But it’s still possible to date college educated young women of good family, and have them fall for you. It takes a different skill set to get your foot in the door. You aren’t as likely to do it chatting the girl up in the bar (though I started a one year live in relationship that way – by playing with her pussy in the bar fifteen minutes into meeting her). It will be harder for you if you are short and balding and ugly, but it’s amazing how an ugly face can grow on a woman like a bad case of toenail fungus. You get under her skin until you are a part of her. Your handicap becomes no handicap at all – she becomes put at ease, thinking other girls won’t fall for you as easily. Or better yet, knowing that you are dating others, can’t put her finger on your magnetism, and can no longer deny it either.
Is there a greater thrill than being ugly and dating a hottie? I suppose being handsome might be better. When looking in the mirror in the shopping malls, me old and ugly, with a super hottie hanging on my arm, it sure looks strange.
It’s said that a stolen watermelon is tastier. That a hard earned meal is more satisfying. Being ugly and fully and completely winning over a hottie is living large.