Battle Scars
December 7, 2008
The bass beat in my ears as my heart pounded with fear and insecurity. She gazed into my eyes, unflinching, and pounded me with question after question, leaving me all the more clueless and speechless, nervous as to what would come next from her lush red lips. Inside, the burning passion for those juicy lips, her brazen gold skin, and almond green eyes amplified the frustration and anxiety which ravaged my thoughts as I opened my mouth to speak but froze up. She looked at me with a sinister grin and turned her attention to something else of more interest and value. I just stood there, thinking, “what should I say?” and “how can I grab her attention again?” but by this time, it was game over. She was already far gone, and I had once more become nothing but wall paper, isolated and alone at the side of that college bar, feeling that all too familiar emotion of being lost and confused. I was once again oozing with lower value hesitant to approach any more sets because those memories of that painful rejection haunted my weakening confidence. I looked at my boys I came to the bar with, and they were just chilling without any booty. I pretended like I was tired, said I was going back to the dorm to sleep early, and left once more alone, with no one waiting for me back home but a computer and high speed internet.
There are many reasons my blogs reek with failure, depression, and angst. There are many reasons why my game did not improve even after reading the e-book, “Conquer your Campus” and the vast library of seduction material. There are still many reasons why my life is not filled with beautiful women and I’m still not the coolest guy on campus. The first and biggest mistake of coming into the game is thinking that it’s a game. Scrubs memorize lines and canned-openers and routines, walk into a bar, get some numbers, act to demonstrate higher value, and maybe even kiss-close. As a scrub, I worked on some openers and routines to perfection and even got the digits and kiss close in bars or clubs, but despite all that, I could still not bring many beautiful women into my life, because in reality, I had no life…
That night at that bar, that particularly beautiful girl peered into my life through her fierce and unrelenting glare, and the friendly conversation turned into a cruel interrogation, in which I was absolutely disqualified. She saw me for the empty wallpaper that I was, and as soon as her spotlight went somewhere else, I withered away into nothingness. Pickup techniques can delay her from seeing that void you have in your life, and you may even become lucky enough to meet her again, maybe get a superficial hug and kiss from her later on, and if you’re particularly good at acting and getting her drunk, trick her into your artificial lair for a one night stand, only to wake up and find her staring at you awkwardly.
Many people turn to “Conquer your Campus” and to me with the wrong purpose of learning more college game techniques, but in essence, the message and central thesis around CYC is plain and simple, “Get a life.” It’s a harsh message, glossed over with many explanations about how to become a 20% alpha male in various social settings, but it all points to the brutal truth that in order to be the man, you need to get a life.
If you’re reading this and thinking, what can I do to get a life? Then you’re probably still a scrub. The problem with scrubs is, they look at their life and think that they have no life. If you’re expecting me to tell you that you should go to the gym, go out to parties, and find a hobby like dancing because that is cool and that is what girls like, then you are still thinking like a scrub. They let other people tell them that their life is not cool, or suffer from inferiority and automatically think that people will view their life as not cool. If there is a first step to becoming the social man on your campus is by acknowledging that your life is the coolest thing ever. All your experiences, all your emotions, all the people in your life define who you are, and it’s up to you to perceive those things as cool or not. This ruggedly individualistic attitude stems from a belief that cannot be faked, no matter how good one’s game- and this belief is self-respect.
I came into the game thinking it would get me girls, but instead it gave me something far more precious. After numerous attempts at demonstrating to be a man of higher value, I realized that men of higher value do not simply demonstrate it for the ladies- they live and breathe it. I had no pride in my life, which I perceived as a dull and embarrassing. I was ashamed of my foreign parents with their funny accents and stringently conservative views, of my dorky little brother who always tried to best me in everything, of the fact that I had grown up poor in a underprivileged neighborhood, of the fact that I had to receive geeky violin lessons and practice hard, while my friends played, of the fact that I was Asian, which automatically stereotyped me as a nerd, of the fact that my name was Johan, which put me under the same label of the weird European composers, and of fact that I did not have the picture perfect face, or the natural athleticism and popularity of those better than me. In my shame and ignorance, I did not see that it was my parent’s love and nurture that enabled me to grow tall and strong. I did not see that in reality, my brother idolized me, and no matter what I did, to him, I was the coolest on earth. I did not see that it was growing up in that tough neighborhood that enabled me to make do with what I had, even in the most frugal circumstances. I did not see that it was those violin lessons that taught me perseverance and character, and I still not only manifest those traits, but also use those vibrating and romantic strings to lull even the most beautiful of women. Ultimately, I did not see that the things I did not have helped me build what I did have with fire, and not flash, that after failing, I only grew stronger, and the more I suffered, the more motivated I became to succeed. As Kanye West puts it, “People talk shit, but when the shit hits the fan, everything I’m not made me everything I am.” The game gave me battle scars, as I struggled to achieve this level of self-respect and confidence. And each of those battle scars is living testament to my social proof of higher value. And I’m going to keep on doing what I love, because I know that whatever I do is of higher value.
I followed my friend to a college party back home. After being in NYC for so long, I missed the old keg parties, the games of beer pong and flip cup, the keg stands and free booze, the house parties, and the feeling of the college community. More importantly, I missed the drunk and crazy college girls gone wild. Now armed with confidence, CYC tactics, and additional pieces of information about girl psychology from Christian and Sparks, I was ready to hustle.
I went in with my friend, whose friend owned the house. Started running the room, gave love to everyone from the cutest of girls to the outlier guys (no homo), lost way too many games in beer pong, held a keg stand for way longer than I should have, and was just having a freaking good time. I was dominating, girls were sending me IOI’s, I was spitting straight out Nick Spark’s irresistible brand of humor with some tailor-made Christian Hudson push-pulls, and the sparks of attraction that I had initiated were putting the roof on fire; I was having a blast. Suddenly, these two cute half-Asian girls entered my kingdom, and I went over to welcome them to the party that was me. They were talking about Harry Potter (weird, girls still do talk about the lovable HP), and I automatically ran a frame on them pointing to one as Hermione (my trusty busty side kick), and the other as annoying Professor Umbridge (she was the target).
I gave some appreciation to them for being cool chicks by giving them a hug, and the rest of the room was looking at me as if I was a god. Since they were already playing into my frame, I casually told them, “Let’s get out of here and get something to eat.” I guess that would be my first mistake of that otherwise fun night: isolating with two girls by myself. I admit I got greedy.
As we started walking to the eat nearby, these girls started pounding me with questions, “Where you from?” and “Where did you grow up?” and “Which school you go to?” As I started to answer, I had to admit, I was getting bored with all these questions, and I started to answer superficially and submissively, stopped being the dominant and fun guy that I was back in that party. Then I started talking to this one girl intensively, and I realized that her friend was getting bored and uncomfortable.
Suddenly, the friend I wasn’t giving attention to pulls her friend away and said, “We know our way to bus stop from here.” I look at them confused, and followed them for a little longer, desperately trying to win back the set, until that weird girl goes, “Why are you following us, creep?” I was like wow- totally blown away. I tried to keep my composure, looked at her and said, “Stop trying to be cute.” I turned to her friend and said, “Nice meeting you,” and peaced out.
I had learned how to officially “spike buying temperature”, but once I had them isolated, they realized they didn’t know me and that’s why they started those rapid-fire questions, to which I admit I did not handle well, and even got annoyed at. Then, I made the girl’s friend uncomfortable by leaving her out of the conversation, and then even got defensive when they started asking me questions about my social life instead of controlling the frame and keeping the fun vibe going.
I have to admit, I was pissed off, but strangely, my confidence was undeterred. That shut down would definitely leave a scar in my pride, and that scar of pain and rejection would sting every time I approach hot girls as a reminder of potential. This scar, this failure, however, though painful at first, has only made me more determined to go out there, talk to more people, especially girls. This is my battle to attain that social life, which will be envy of men and god’s gift to all the beautiful women out there lucky enough to cross my path. And those initial and lingering battle scars of the past will remind of what I did wrong those countless nights when I was still a scrub, and help me from making the same mistakes. I had come to a point, after suffering failure and rejection time after time, and learning from those losses, where I am no longer hesitant or fearful to approach hot girls and welcome them into my good life.
“So TRY! They can’t steal your pride it’s inside, then find it and keep on grinding, cause in every dark could there’s a silver lining.
I know…”
-Lil Wayne
Scrub Status
November 17, 2008
I sat depressed and alone in my dorm room overlooking NYC’s cherished Union Square, with Radiohead’s “Creep” sulking in the background.
I looked down with longing at the plethora of social interactions and couples that plagued that rugged Square, as musicians jazzed, bikers and skaters flew, and farmers and artists came to proudly display their respective masterpieces as the autumn leaves decorated the brick floor. Down there was a vast and diverse multitude of colors, art, vegetables, music, leaves, painted even more beautifully with human interactions that engender the most authentic emotions such as anger, depression, hate, joy, curiosity, and more importantly, love. Simply put, the square teemed with life…
But I sat, looking down, alone, void of emotions, in the darkness…
When I started college, I thought I was going to be a “baller” or a “player”. I thought I was going to have so much fun and get so many girls. Especially since I was entering a school in NY, New York, which is famous for a diverse set of the most beautiful women in the world. Since most of the male population going to my school is gay, I thought the chances of getting the girls that I used to only dream of in high school increased tenfold.
But after a pretty lame freshman year, I realized that NYC social scene was a totally new and mysterious world, and when I did go out to bars and clubs, I would be trapped on the side, watching people have fun, as I tried to pretend to be busy looking at my phone or pretended to be too tired as I sat in a corner radiating negative social energy or in PUA terms, demonstrating lower value. In class (and various other academic settings), in the gym, in the cafeteria, or in other social gatherings, I would be the guy that minded his own business and talked to my own friends. All I could think of when talking with girls was school work. (What a Loser!) If it was a pretty girl that I liked, I would keep the conversation very safe and formal, as if not to offend her. I was happy by the fact that she was taking her time acknowledge my presence, but relieved when she left because when she was around, I would be so tense. Worse off, I would go home and think about her, frustrated, knowing I could never get a girl like that to even be a friend. I oozed neediness, desperation, and depression, like I have a sign on my back with AFC written on it. Every weekend, I would have to depend on my friends who were a little better with girls to find where the next party was and be ready to drop mad money, because there was probably no way I could bring girls with me. After a couple weeks of leaching off my friends, they started to not pick up my phone calls. Two years have gone by in college, and I am no where near having the fun I thought I would have when I began as a eager young freshman. I found myself becoming more desperate and more frustrated with myself. To mark my inner depression and disappointment with myself, I started wearing hoodies covering my face, didn’t shave, smoked pot all the time, and started to stay in on weekends to play computer games, listened to depressing and slow rock and R&B about rockers and singers who had their hearts broken or just cried out in sexual frustration. Who knew that the complexities of the feminine mystique could so utterly break a soul of a man? I had officially hit the lowest point in my social life ever. I am a tool. This was absolute scrub status.
I had always been cool in high school. Everyone liked me, as a friend. I was a three season athlete, pretty good looking, tall, wide shoulders, kind of scrawny, and doing well academically as well. One huge selling point was that I had the whole house to myself senior year of high school, and I threw mad parties, but looking back, I felt like I was being used to throw parties and thus started the makings of one of the biggest tools/scrubs in history. I realized that when all of my sudden new found friends left me alone to clean the house by myself after almost every party. In the day, I realized I did not make an attempt to go out with friends, but stayed in and played computer games. I never had a girlfriend, but there were always some cute girls that showed interest in me, but whenever it came time to socializing with them, I was a failure. To hide my fear and pretend like I had something to offer them, I said I partied with college kids a lot when I really didn’t party or know that many college kids, and created this identity for myself as a “way too cool for school” kid. This resulted in never having a girlfriend during high school and not even having a prom date. I pretended like the girls were too low level for my taste, and played it off like I didn’t have any money for prom. Inside though, it stung like a bitch. But whatever, I thought that once I got to college in NYC, I would make cooler friends and meet hotter girls, and my high school friends would beg to visit me in the city and take them out. Up till now, none of my high school friends have shown a remote interest in visiting me.
That is absolute scrub status.
I tried to use the same game that I used in high school for college, pretending like I had a lot of offer, to friends and girls so that they would look up to me and respect me, when I really didn’t. And when compared to the promoters and millionaire parents’ children I was up against, there was no chance in hell. That was when I finally acknowledged that I was a scrub, a tool; someone that had been hiding behind a false mask of greatness when in reality, all there was behind that mask was a fearful boy who just wanted to be loved.
One of my few close friends started talking about “the Game”, and how these methods have improved so scrub status men into stars with women. I didn’t believe it at first, but in my desperation, I hoped something like the game did exist, and decided I would work on it in hopes that just possibly, I could accomplish my dreams. That was when I finally decided to get this area of my life handled. I saw an ad for “Conquer Your Campus”, priced reasonably, and decided to buy it. Seeing my credit card being charged for something that I might not be able to trust, written about an elusive topic by an unknown author was probably, in my mind, the most degrading thing I had ever done. It was like a proud acknowledgement to the financial institutions that run credit card companies and whoever was on the other end selling these self-help books that I am officially scrub status. After reading through the book, and re-reading it, and after a few months of trying to implementing the theories in the book, I realized that I didn’t improve that much. I blamed it on the NYC setting, which was very different from the campus college settings of the CYC e-books. But once again, I was trying to find a way to justify getting a refund for my money.
In fact, everything that the book said was true and I hated it. It exposed me for the coward I was. I realized I had been living a lie, a life with no substance. When I viewed myself as something not cool that I had to create a false identity with those I considered my friends, then something had to be wrong. In the process of trying to be this elusive cool, I had decayed into a scrub. But now that part of my life is over, and my mask is coming off. I realized that cool is a subjective thing. All my life, I had been trying to be cool according to other people’s view, when in reality, it was I, and only I, who had the power to define something as cool. So over the summer I spent a lot of time with my real friends and family just being me, exposed as naked for them to see, and I realized that to them, I am cool and they love me just the way I am. Now, with the help of some friends, Christian Hudson and Nick Sparks, I want the world to see how freaking cool I really am. And I know they’re going to like what they see…
A night out with nick sparks…
November 11, 2008
So what is a night out like with PUAs?
Shawty wanna thug? Bottles in da club?
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to party with these guys. Are they chill and cool guys, or are they just so focused on the game that they vibe out creepiness… I remember trying my first canned routine openers and attraction methods, and feeling the frustration of trying to run all these seduction programs locked in my head.
If you read the Game, they call going out with “wingmen” as “sarging” which makes the whole process something with a given set of rules with a clear winner and loser and an established goal. This was what I expected when Nick Sparks said lets go out. He also added the fact, “I’ve got a little bit of energy tonight.”
As a college student, its common knowledge that the more girls you bring out with you, the more fun you’re going to have… The Game calls the girls you take out with you while you’re sarging as “pivots”. Girls automatically demonstrate that you’re a man of higher value. However, on that night, there was just one girl, making the ratio of girls to guy, 1:2. Not a normally good ratio.
We started the night out by meeting at Nick’s place, had a couple 40’s, but no music. But despite this not being the normal pump-up, “party”, pregame scene, Nick compensated for all that. He was like a ball of energy! He just started talking, and I would just lean back, get comfortable, relax, and laugh and make jokes about the craziest things. Like before that, I did not know how making fun of a girl’s hometown could be so interesting. He would be touchy (Nick knows nothing of social boudries), upbeat, jumpy, with a smirk on his face that would never waver for a second.
By the time everybody was comfortable with each other, slightly tipsy, and all upbeat, we hopped out onto a bus to head to the bars in the lower east side. Normally, on a bus, people stay seated and quiet, minding their own business, and talk to each other in whispers. Buses can, in fact, be mood killers. But not so with Nick. As soon as he got on that bus, he spoke loudly, making his business everybody elses, but he didn’t care… He was having a blast- on a BUS…? It was obvious that we became the center of attention on that bus, and cute girls on the bus started looking our way, and I lost track of the time or stops. Some people would call this shameless behavior, but everybody else on the bus that we could potentially have been disturbing were looking our way grinning and smiling so call it whatever you will, but everybody was having fun… Yes, on a bus…
We walk into a bar, and like any other guy, I start looking around, observing the enviroment, checking out which girls are hot, and where the center of attention is. But not so with Nick… I don’t think he realized that people were standing around him. I think the only thing he noted was where the bar was and where the bathroom was, and started walking up to random people and next thing you know, there would be a bunch of cute girls surrounding him laughing and giggling. He didn’t analzye or nothing or run canned lines or openers. He just went in, and similar to the bus situation, that’s wehre the party was at. He didn’t care he who the center of attention was- he is the center of attention. The dude is just so freaking comfortable in his own skin. Next thing you know, girls were buying him drinks, touching him, sending him IOIs. To me it looked like magic because I could not understand what was going on. Just the fact that I was standing next to him was bringing me attention and getting me drinks and lap dances and IOIs. My favorite moment was when this fiesty and rather intrusive blond just grabbed my ass from the back when I was standing by the bar. Nick saw her and automatically started spitting his game, and next thing you know, she was grabbing him until she ripped his necklace right off his neck. He looked back at her in utter shock, (though I think he had it all planned out), and the girl looked at him in utter horror. She ended up being cool and buying each of us a shot. By the time we left, we were seriously the gravitational center of attention.
Then Nick moved us to a close place nearby, and made me start practicing my social magnetism. I thought that there was no order to the madness of Nick’s game. But in fact, there was some structure to the Nicks alluring methods. It became relevant when he made me open a set of 3 girls. He told me to go in, sit down, and tell them that they look like they are having the worst time of their lives in this place. I did, and lo and behold, there were opening up, talking, telling me some boring stuff about their lives. I realized that unlike Nick, I didn’t know how to escalate groups, and when things started to die down, I just said, “nice to meet you” and left. Nick scolded me for leaning and caring too much about the outcome. The best thing to do is just be so comfortable in my own skin, that I could talk about anything I want and cause people to get hooked into what i was saying. In order to overcome my fear of caring about the outcome, he made me go up to a random group of girls and say something that would automatically get me shut down like, “Hey, I really want to mack with one you now…” I went up, looked at all three of them, grinned, and said, “Yo, I really want to make out with one you now…” I knew I was gonna get shut down, and as soon as one said, “Ewww… NO!” I laughed and left. Then Nick went up to them, used the exact opener I did, sat down next to one of them, and within 30 seconds, despite using that horrible opener, had them laughing and enjoying themselves. I was like wow…
That night opened my eyes… I realized that “game” does exist… And it has nothing to do with looks and money. In fact, girls were throwing us drinks by the end of the night. Moreover, the misconceptions about gaming were totally thrown out of the window. The game is not a neurotic program that runs through the head, where there are rules, winners, losers, and goals, where there are equations where A + B = sex. The game is a characteristic, a built or natural trait, that allows people to lean back, have fun, and get the girl.
The game is not a sequence of events that takes place between a man and a girl, but rather, a different way viewing oneself, that changes the way other people, especially women, view you as an object of attraction.
