Shock and Awe part 2: The Apocalypse Opener

Shock and Awe part 2: The Apocalypse Opener



Chat up lines don't work. That's the main problem with them.

I mean, we all know this. If there was a simple line you could just spiel out and get a girl, the community wouldn't be as big as it is.

The fact is, getting a girl isn't really about what you say. It's about what you DEMONSTRATE and what you PROJECT.

HOWEVER...

What if there WAS a chat up line that did work? What if there was a chat up line that led to an instant makeout? What then?

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER

What I am about to share with you is some potent fucking shit.

Do you understand?

Good.

When I showed this to Jeffy, he took one look at it, then nodded, and said "That's some potent fucking shit."

My point is this.

If you cannot handle doing Shock and Awe, you are not ready for this shit yet.

This is NOT a magic pill.

If you are a broken fucking value taking Gollum-like chode who wants to 'get one over' on women and life, who wants to seek petty vengeance for the myriad grudges that you nurse on a daily basis to justify the uselessness of your pathetic existence... this will not work.

How do I know this?

Because I've been that chode.

Get your inner game sorted.

I recommend the work of Eckhart Tolle.

So with no further ado, gents, here we go. I hope you're sitting comfortably.

THE BEST CHAT UP LINE I EVER HEARD

About 18 months ago I was in the smoking area of a pub on Edinburgh's Royal Mile. It's very picturesque. There's a castle and everything. Anyway, this time I'm out with just ONE girl. She's a good friend of mine, and for matters of convenience and privacy, we shall call her Susan.

So me and Susan are chatting away, and the subject wanders on to chat-up lines. I asked her what the worst chat-up line she ever heard was and she gave me some chodely horror-story of unimaginable lameness.

Then I asked her

"So... what's the best chat up line you've ever heard?"

Susan considered this for a while, and then said this:

"Ok, this one guy had a great one a while back. It worked on me."

"What do you mean, it worked on you?"

"It worked. I banged him."

"Nice. You're very ladylike."

Susan smiled politely.

"So what was it?" I asked.

THE APOCALYPSE OPENER...

"Well," she said, "it goes like this...

What she then told me made me literally choke on my beer. It was genius. I will never know who this man is, but whoever he is he deserves a prize. A big, shiny Nobel prize.

Here it is, lads:

You rock up to a chick and, in a confident, level voice you say

"Hey, how's it going."

She will say

"Fine."

You then say

"Cool. What are you doing later?"

She will say

"I'm not sure."

You then say

"Do you want to come home with me?"

Then you hold.

Hold.

HOLD....................

HOLD IT MY SON..........................

HOLD THE FUCKING LINE..................

Boom. Makeout.

And that's the Apocalypse opener. You don't 'build rapport.' You don't 'elicit values.' You don't 'kino escalate.' You don't even ask her fucking NAME. You ask if she wants to sleep with you in the THIRD SENTENCE, hold the line, and reap the whirlwind.

CIARAN, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME

Nope. It is and remains the most amazingly powerful chat up line I've ever seen in my life. I realise that you're all just shaking your heads with a million problems that you can see with doing this, so let's go through this step-by-step.

DOES IT WORK?

Well, let me tell you a story.

After hearing this, I resolved to give it a go. I went out to a bar that night, and walked about the place.

Now, at this point I wasn't by any means a Jedi, but I wasn't shit. I could consistently open, I could flirt, I could get the occasional makeout. What I'm saying is that I'd gotten to a point where I could approach without that much anxiety.

Dude, I was shitting my pants. Mother of God, man. Looking at all these beautiful women, just the thought of going up to one of them and coming OUT with this shit was terrifying. I sank pint after pint of booze. I walked around some more. I drank more booze. I lurked in the corner for a while. I was still shitting my pants without a SINGLE approach when the bouncers started herding people out the door.

Fuck. I'd missed my chance.

No. No, no, no. No way. Not me. Not now. I was going to do this. If I crashed out, if I messed up, whatever - I'd take the pain. I was going to say this. Honestly, it felt like my VERY FIRST APPROACH all over again. I was really, really scared.

I walked out of the bar into the milling crowd. Fuck it. I'm going to do this. Someone. Anyone.

And there she was. Delicate, like a fairy almost. Red hair, really rich and deep red, and a quirky dress that melted my heart.

Fuck.

Fuckitty fuck fuck. We're going in.

Ok, Ciaran. Concentrate on getting the first line out. That's not so bad.

"Hey" I blurt.

"Hey." She's even prettier close up. DO IT, CIARAN. DO IT!!

"How's it going?"

"Not bad."

"What are you up to later?"

"Not sure."

DO IT MAN!! EYE OF THE TIGER!!

"Do you want to come home with me?

She looks at me. She's gauging. I've never felt attention this intense. It's like a laserbeam scorching me for any signs of incongruence. Luckily enough, she's hot, so there aren't any. The urge to say something, to break the tension is PALPABLE. I CLAMP my jaw tight shut to silence myself.

She sways backward, stunned. Then she jumps me. Physically lunges forward and puts her tongue in my mouth.

BAM.

Incidentally, there was a guy there - a very strong natural - who had been hitting on her all evening, and had got her to agree to come back to his (I found this all out later). Didn't matter. Blew him the fuck away with this ONE SENTENCE.

This girl wasn't a slut. She wasn't a freak. She was a cool, normal chick.

She was hot too. Really hot.

Nice.

TREMBLE BEFORE THE COMING APOCALYPSE

So why does this work? Is it magic?

Well actually, there's no magic here. It's all really simple, and rests on EXACTLY the reason I gave at the start of the article for why chat-up lines don't work.

It's not about what you say.

It's about what you DEMONSTRATE and what you PROJECT.

Let's go back to that sunny afternoon on Edinburgh. I'm in the smoking area, talking to Susan.

So anyway, I finish choking on my beer.

"What? He said what?"

"Do you want to come home with me."

And what did you do?

"Well, I didn't jump him straight away, but I was just really impressed that he had the balls to come out with something like that."

"Yeah. Wow, that certainly is an impressive introduction."

"Damn straight. After that all he needed to do was just maybe buy me a drink or something and I was his."

"Cool."

"Yup."

So let's look at this, straight from the horses' mouth. So to speak.

She was REALLY IMPRESSED that he had the BALLS to COME OUT with something like that.

REALLY IMPRESSED

The power of this opener is massive. It lies in the fact that it is HONEST. It is genuine to the turbo-max.

All of my 'game' is based around this principal. Be genuine, but be genuine times 1000. Don't just 'be yourself', fucking BE yourself. Be yourself to the motherfucking HILT.

Do you understand?

She will NEVER HAVE HEARD ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE.

If you do this, a girl will be really impressed that you DEMONSTRATE the courage to say this. And believe me, you cannot fake it. This shit takes balls.

BALLS

I'm not going to lie to you. It is SCARY doing the Apocalypse Opener.

But that's good. That's WHY it works.

Because it is genuinely scary, it is INCREDIBLY impressive. But you need the balls to come out with it.

COME OUT WITH IT

At the same time, your delivery itself - and here's the crazy thing - is actually NOT THAT IMPORTANT.

I know. Nuts.

The truth is, the first time I said this I was SCARED. Really, really scared.

It still worked.

It's so powerful. You don't need to be amazing, and you don't need the inner game of the Fonz to attempt this. I didn't have much inner game at all when I started reeling it out.

All you need to do is NOT CRUMBLE.

That is all. Just come out with it, then don't crumble.

THE KEY TO MAKING IT WORK

The key to making it work is not how you say it, but what you do in the 30 seconds after it's left your mouth.

Before I talk specifics, let's state the single CARDINAL SIN of the Apocalypse, which is the ONLY THING that can blow you out.

NEVER BE WEIRD

That's it. Don't be weird. You have to deliver the opener deadpan. Like you are talking about the WEATHER. You are not making a BIG THING of it. You're just ASKING.

You are not MOCKING. You are not JOKING. You are not TOO SERIOUS.

It is NOT PLAYFUL however - it is REAL.

You are REALLY ASKING HER.

If she says no - you only need ONE COMEBACK.

It is this:

"Ok."

Then you strike up a 'normal' conversation about the colour of the wallpaper, or the music that's playing, or the fact that you did your laundry earlier today.

Whatever.

HOW DO I KNOW IF IT'S WORKED?

You will know because you will see two things in that girl's eyes.

Shock, motherfucker. SHOCK and AWE.

If she looks shocked, you've got her. If she looks stunned, she's yours. If she takes it in her stride, she's the coolest cucumber in the world, and you should probably marry her. extremely fast.

WAIT, CIARAN! WHAT IF IT BACKFIRES?

It never backfires as long as you don't panic.

That's right - there is only ONE THING you must NOT DO while using the Apocalypse Opener...

And that is to lose your shit like a fucking pussy.

I know. Crazy. As long as you aren't weird, or creepy, it never backfires.

But REMEMBER.

You are not trying to PERSUADE HER TO SLEEP WITH YOU.

This is so UTTERLY CRUCIAL I am going to write it in red letters.

You are not trying to PERSUADE HER TO SLEEP WITH YOU.

You are just putting the OPTION in front of her. If she says no, you say 'ok' and talk about your nephew's new pet dog. Or whatever.

If you do this in a creepy or sleazy way, you will be shot down like a blind, 96-year old German who doesn't know the war's ended, doing a strafing run on a US Destroyer-Class Battleship in a Messerschmitt Me 262.

That is to say, extremely quickly.

So DO NOT ATTEMPT to ENTICE her into sleeping with you.

This is important NOT JUST in the vibe of the line itself (where, again, it is absolutely crucial). It is important in what comes after.

WHOA, WHOA, WHOA. WHAT IF SHE DOESN'T JUMP ME?

She'll only jump you, in my experience, about 30-50% of the time.

Equally, this is a MASSIVE percentage for ONE LINE.

However, the other 50-70% of the time, she will not jump you. Not for at least 6 or 7 minutes.

This is FINE. Just chill out. She will be testing you for signs of neediness but remember - all you need to do is talk about the WEATHER.

You do not need to do anything else to ATTRACT her. That phase is OVER. She will be stunned by what you said. Now all you need to do, and I cannot OVERSTRESS this, is ACT NORMAL.

This is, incidentally, the only place where it is ENTIRELY APPROPRIATE for you to buy her a drink, for three reasons:

1: It shows you are normal
2: It acts a kind of 'token wooing' to sate her girly ego
3: It shows you are normal

Ok?

Just ACT NORMAL for the love of God. Talk about anything. She will be SUPER-INTO-YOU. She just wants to know you're not a serial killer before she takes you home.

I THINK THAT IT ONLY SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD IDEA FOR DRUNK CHICKS AT CLOSING TIME

Then you're a pussy.

I've opened girls on the street with it. Successfully. They don't normally jump you, but they do find it fun, cool and engagingly forward. And sometimes they jump you.

It works brilliantly in a bar or club, but you don't need to save it to the end of the evening unless you're looking for a good night out. After a while (I'm not kidding, this really happens) it gets kind of frustrating when you want a night out with your friends and you keep getting dragged off by chicks.

No, really.

Anyway, you can do this anywhere. You can open with it at the start of the night. You can open with it at the end of the night.

Incidentally, I have never had a bad reaction from a woman when doing this. Ever. Even if you accidentally slip into sleaze, she'll just walk off, but this rarely happens.

This one hooks like a motherfucker.

The other thing is this- if she walks off in shock, do not follow her. Let her go. She'll be back in about 15 seconds. Maximum 60.

DO YOU STARE AT HER AFTER YOU ASK?

You never stare. You look. Empty your mind, young grasshopper. Read the Power Of Now. You lock eyes with her. That is all - but then again I would argue that you lock eyes with her all the time. In fact, I would argue that you lock eyes with everyone you interact with in your entire life.

Just look at her. Calm. Level. Like your question is completely normal and in context. She will break.

IF SHE SAYS 'NO' AND I JUST STICK IN THERE, WILL SHE COME AROUND?

Yes.

In fact, it is awesome when she says no... because it gives you an opportunity to demonstrate a reality stronger than cobalt steel.

Here's what you do.

If she says no, you say "ok" in the same tone of voice as if you had offered her a prawn cocktail crisp and she had said "no thank you." Then you ask her what she thought of Pirates of the Caribbean 3 or something.

Or you talk about the burger you had for breakfast or what the weather was like last tuesday or what-fucking-ever.

In 10 minutes (tops) she'll be on your face.

SHOULD I DO THIS IN FRONT OF HER FRIENDS?

No.

You CANNOT do this if a girl is within earshot of her friends. If it's a club, you can do it with only a few feet of distance between her and her mates because of the loud noise.

The important thing is that she feels that it is a private exchange for EXACTLY the reason you think. If you do this in front of her mate she will look at you like you're scum and blow you out.

Amazingly, this never, ever happens, ever, if she is on her own.

Chicks.

Gotta love em.

WHAT IF I STARED AT HER BOOBS? WOULD THAT WORK?

No. Remember - this is COOL. You deliver this in the same tone as if you're asking about the weather. Not a throwaway line, mind...

Just a genuine, totally normal, direct question.

Boom, mofos.

SOUNDS LIKE IT'S GOOD FOR ONE NIGHT STANDS... BUT YOU COULDN'T HAVE A RELATIONSHIP WITH ONE OF THESE CHICKS, COULD YOU?

Of course you can. Stop asking stupid questions.

You can start a relationship off a purely sexual one night stand no problem.

As Tim once said - there's a time and a place for emotional connection.

After sex.

CAN I WAIT FOR A FEW MINUTES INTO THE CONVERSATION TO USE THE LINE?

NO.

It loses power and effectiveness rapidly the longer you wait to say it.

The power and impact of this derives from the fact that you are balls out opening with the option of sex.

You can say it later, of course - and she might not freak out. You may get a makeout, and it will increase attraction as long as you can hold your shit and cope with fallout - but if you do it later she also might just bolt.

If you're looking for an instant hook up, do this fast.

I THINK LOOKS WILL MATTER HERE. (JUST MY 2 CENTS)

Your two cents are worthless.

Dude, I'm not here to debate abstract concepts of female attraction and how they relate to looks.

I'm telling you that this works regardless of what you look like, because that is what I have seen, over and over again, with my own eyes.

Quasimodo could pull this off if he had big enough balls.

I don't care if you believe me. This works. I know because I've done it, I've seen others do it.

At no point have looks ever been even an incidental factor in the success of this line.

I have consistently pulled model hot chicks with this while looking like a tramp.

Anyone who thinks looks matter... even in the slightest... when it comes to being good with girls, is a fucking pussy ass chode. If you think differently, you are a chode, and your opinion is irrelevant.

Now sit in the corner, and think about what you've done.

FAIR ENOUGH, LOOKS DON'T MATTER. BUT I'M STILL STRUGGLING WITH THE BELIEF THAT ANY SOBER GIRL WOULD FUCK A GUY ON THE SAME NIGHT SHE MEETS HIM.

Hahahahaha! Oh! AHAHAHA! OOOOOOH!

*pants*

OOOOOOOOHOHOHOHO!

AHAHAHAHA!

Ahahahaha.

Haha.

Hee.

Hoo.

Hnnnnnnnnng.

They will dude. Your beliefs are irrelevant. They will.

Oh yes.

They will.

GROUP APOCALYPSE

Rock up to two chicks and say exactly the same thing, with this interesting twist:

"Hey, how's it going."

They will say

"Fine."

You then say

"Cool. What are you doing later?"

They will say

"I'm not sure."

You then say

"What are the chances of you two coming back to mine for a threesome?"

Then you hold.

Hold.

HOLD....................

HOLD IT MY SON..........................

HOLD THE FUCKING LINE..................

Boom.

That 'Boom' incidentally, is the heart of the S+A system.

It's where you see it in a girl's eyes. Shock, and awe.

It is the most rewarding thing you'll ever see after years in the wasteland being ignored by women. Most men go their whole lives and never see it. It's amazing. After you've seen it a few times it changes you, changes your whole outlook on life. It's like something connects, deep inside you. Some long-lost circuit. After I'd done this a couple of times my whole voice changed, became more resonant. It was awesome.

So that, my friends, is the Apocalypse Opener. The only chat-up line I ever found that actually works. I've spoken about it at length, because I want to hammer home one point.

It works. It's not THAT hard to do. You DO NOT NEED to be amazing at this to pull this off. If you can blurt it out and hold your nerve, you can do this.

Now get out there, and nail this shit to the ground.

'Jealous girlfriend' my hairy white ass.

Peace out

Ciaran

Shock and Awe Part 1

Shock and Awe by Ciaran

There's a myth in this underground world we inhabit that if you sleep with a girl within minutes of meeting her, that's not solid game.

On the one hand, I agree.

If you fluke out once in a while and find some random chick who's just looking to get laid, that's not you - that's just luck.

Some guys will harp on about how great they are at getting girls because it happens to them once in a blue moon.

I speak from experience. I too was once a deluded chode.

HOWEVER.

What if it's not every once in a while?

What if you can pull chicks in minutes, consistently. And not munters (US translation: warpigs) mind. What if you can consistently pull stunning girls, rapidly?

Is that solid game?

You tell me.

In this article I will sketch out a detailed map of how to pull off "Fool's Mate" pickups with consistency and panache.

Are you sitting comfortably?

Then I'll begin.

THE BEST NATURAL I EVER MET

When I decided that I was going to get good with women, I was broke. I had no money, and I had no friends.

I'd gotten fired from my fancy job in the sandstone maze of London's Square Mile, and I was in debt. I moved to Edinburgh because I couldn't afford London rent, and I slept on my sister's
couch until I found a job.

The job I found was bartending. It was good, easy work. After the nightmarish stress of the financial sector, it felt like heaven.

Besides, it also meant that I'd be talking to lots of girls.

That was good, but the real benefit I got from taking that job was a guy called Andy.

I thank God every day that my path crossed with Andy's.

Andy was amazing.

He was just jaw-dropping. He wasn't ugly, but he wasn't particularly good looking. He was an engineering student who worked in a bar.

I have never seen a man pull that well.

We became friends, and as I worked at approaching and approaching, I started to improve.

Ultimately though, it was Andy that made me great.

You see, I'd messed around with 'indirect, tactical' game, but found it weak, pointless, unnatural.

Direct game was different. Powerful, exciting, real. I found my results getting better and better.

But I was nothing compared to Andy.

You see, Andy didn't date. Ever.

He didn't date, he didn't buy girls drinks, he didn't call them, he NEVER took phone numbers.

At the age of 21, he'd already slept with over 150 women.

Engineering student.

Bartender.

ANDY'S SECRET

One day I asked him a question. I'd just gotten tested in a massive way by this hot Swedish chïck, and completely crashed out.

I ran the test by Andy. It was this:

"You just want to sleep with me, don't you?"

I offered several responses - Play it hard to get. Play it cocky. Play it sweet.

Andy just laughed at me. Then he said this:

"You know what I'd have said? I'd have said - yeah. I'll do you in every hole you've got."

He said it with a beaming grin on his face, laughing as he said it. Not joking as he said it, mind - that's important. Laughing, but not joking.

I thought about this for a time, then I began to use it. Not his line, but his attitude.

Amazingly, it worked. Even while I was testing this out, I'd rarely get blown out. And my results skyrocketed.

Toward the end of my singledom, before I met my beautiful girlfriend, I would walk out of the house alone, walk into the first busy bar I saw, walk up to the hottest chïck in the room,
pull her, take her home and sleep with her.

I would do this consistently, without getting blown out. One approach per night. 100% success.

Believe me or not, I don't care. It is true. I used to do it to show off to all my friends.

In the end, even Andy couldn't match me.

SHOCK and AWE

It's a way of getting a Fool's Mate - that is to say, a rapid seduction that takes minutes and not hours.

This was always something of a holy grail to me - I saw naturals pull consistent same night lays, and I knew that I would do that too.

I hated phone game - still do. I'm awful at it. I'm rubbish on the phone because one day after calling through 25 numbers I'd collected one afternoon and getting nothing, I decided I'd never
take another phone number, no matter HOW PROMISING it seemed to be.

Same night, or nothing. That was my training rule.

Besides, I was always curious about the 'GM method'. Many of you probably have no idea what I'm talking about, but basically way back in the day there was a PUA who claimed to have cracked the Fool's Mate Code.

His 'style' was, he said, extremely 'advanced' and 'high risk'.

As such, it never caught on.

SHOCK and AWE is not high risk. It sounds like it is, but it's really not - and I'll explain why in a moment.

It's not even advanced. I'd call it intermediate. If you can open, and you can get attraction, and you can chill out and chat with a chick and not get weird - you can do this.

It is not a quick fix solution for hopeless newbies. Sorry.

If you're having problems stringing a sentence together, if your body language sucks, if you have bad VOICE PROJECTION (this, as Jeffy points out, is crucial to all game) - this will not work.

However, if you're plateauing somewhere in the intermediate stages, (or if you just hate getting phone numbers like I do) this might be EXACTLY what you need.

I never felt that GM method, or any other Fool's Mate method were very well explained.

Hardcore insta-pickups seem always to be written as very high-risk things for, well, Grand Masters.

I wanted to provide something much simpler, something easier that is devastatingly effective and instantly useable.

So here it is, gentlemen. Shock and Awe.

IT'S ALL SO SIMPLE

A good friend of mine once asked, regarding pickup - "Why isn't this easy?"

The answer is, as he pointed out, that it is easy. We just make it complex.

Shock and Awe is, very simply, something I developed out of SOIing too much when I was closing a chick down so I could kiss her/grab her and leave/whatever.

I developed a very specific kind of SOI (statement of intent) that covers your back socially while allowing you to come out with the most outrageous stuff - stuff that gets her very horny, very fast.

I'd use principles from this to sex up the vibe of a conversation with a chick if it was getting dull. The point is though, you don't need to do that.

I realised that you can open with it. You can open, and then drop straight into a continual SOI loop and close a chick straight down very fast. It's a kind of vibe, you can feel when you've hit it because it's electric. You can just go ape from the outset and drive her crazy, then take her home.

THE MECHANICS OF FOOL'S MATE GAME

This is a very basic sketch of Shock and Awe.

Basically, BEING OPEN about your desire and BLAMING THE CHICK for being hot is dynamite.

Toward the end of my pickup rampage I had developed a whole new kind of game around doing just this one thing.

I called it Shock and Awe, because it is shocking, awesome, and if you nail it you can pull a chick extremely quickly. It's mental. I love it. I stopped doing it for a while because it got boring.

No, really.

The final thing to understand before we get to the nitty gritty of what to do is this:

The SOIs you use in Shock and Awe aren't really SOIs as such.

You're not making a "Statement of Interest." You're not making a "Statement Of Intent."

You're stating your DESIRE.

This is a whole 'nuther level of important. There's not "I intend to sleep with you" or "I am interested in you". This is you talking about your DESIRE alone. That is all. How hot she is. How sexy she is. How awesome her body is.

Just pure sex, right from the outset.

ENOUGH FOREPLAY: HERE IT IS...

To map the basic structure of Shock and Awe it would be

1) APPROACH WITH AN SOI THEN SOI STACK, BLAMING HER HOTNESS FOR YOUR ACTIONS.

Make sure they are creative and funky SOIs. Think of it like jazz. SOI jazz. Free form, just go for it. Say anything. It's not important. What is important is that you blame her for being hot.
Say something like:

"Excuse me, but WHAT? What do you WANT? Do you want me to just walk on BY? I mean, you're absolutely STUNNING. Do you want me to just PRETEND like that doesn't effect me? I mean, HOW? I'm just some GUY. I can't turn it off. What are you trying to DO to me, woman?"
etc....

You're not shouting, BTW - keep it cool. Capitalization just there for emphasis.

2) ALWAYS BE ESCALATING PHYSICALLY, ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS.

Blame her for the fact you can't keep your hands off her. Act like you're trying to keep your hands of her and you just can't. Blame her more. Ask her why she's doing this to you. Physically fight your urge to touch her, and make this conflict OBVIOUS. You are a wild animal STRAINING against a tight fucking leash. You're in control... but BARELY.

Don't fake this. Really get into this headspace. This is the key to the whole thing.

3) EXPRESS DESIRE, DO THIS RELENTLESSLY AND BLAME HER FOR IT.

Tell her you deserve a gold star for effort for not jumping all over her. Keep it funny, but make sure the vibe is highly erotic. Remember - LAUGHING, NOT JOKING. Tell her that if she doesn't stop being hot you're not going be held responsible. Tell her to eat a load of pies, and gain 5 stone so you can connect with her personality without wanting to tear all her clothes off.

4) IF YOU PUSH IT TOO FAR, APOLOGIZE FOR THE DISRESPECT AND NOT THE
ACTION.

Genuinely apologize. Really. Actually do this and MEAN IT.

But remember - ONLY apologize for the DISRESPECT.

NEVER apologize for the ACTION/SOI/KINO.

Then tell her you did it because she's really hot. Blame her for being hot. Tell her she should wear a bag over her head so you can have a normal conversation with her.

5) GO TO STEP 2.

You can basically do this until she breaks. It's great.

Just remember guys, use a condom.

ARE YOU SERIOUS? IS IT REALLY THAT SIMPLE?

Honest to God, have consistently pulled hot chïcks with this. It's not infallible, but it's hilarious and it blows through all the BS.

CAN I DO THIS IN A GROUP OF GIRLS?

Yup. It's a different ball game though.

GROUP SHOCK AND AWE.

S+A the entire group as an opener and then drop into a highly charged comfort phase.

This is actually really easy.

This is also how you NEUTRALIZE ALL RISK associated with being so extreme.

You just say something like "No - no, this is ridiculous. I'm going to find out who you are. You can't do this to me. I have depth. Tell me about yourself."

And then they do (either that or they demand to know who you are, but it's all in good fun) and boom, you're chatting. It acts like an explosive, funny, charming group opener.

They usually then fight it out amongst themselves for who gets to bang you, or you can hit on one especially if you like her.

DO I NEED LOTS OF ISOLATION?

Isolation? Sure, you need it, but you don't need much, especially in a club or a bar.

Normal rules apply - I wouldn't go for the kill on a chick in a seated set, just set the vibe then chill back, stay in contention and wait for an opening.

If it's a loud club, you can claw a chick close to you for isolation, or just lean in.

Basically, you don't need to be slavish about this. A few feet of distance will do it. Remember - SHOCK and AWE. As soon as you start you kick off this electric vibe.

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE VIBE, ABOUT MAGNIFYING THE VIBE

And the vibe is generated from the fact that she's so sexy she's breaking you down, but you're resisting. That's where the tension comes from.

HOW IMPORTANT IS IT TO BLAME THE CHICK FOR YOUR EXTREME ACTIONS?

This is the heart of it. You are talking direct, but you're blaming her hotness for your directness.

As such, it's like two different levels of compliment, both of which are highly unusual and extremely difficult to resist.

You're basically telling her it's totally out of character for you to behave like this and you're fighting it, but you're really, really struggling.

About 10% of your words should be telling her that she's hot.

About 90% of your words should be blaming her for the effect she's having on you. ‘The Blame Frame’.

This isn't an academic issue. THIS FRAME IS HOW YOU AVOID ASD WHEN GOING FOR A FOOL'S MATE. The frame is, she is breaking down your resolve with her hotness. This is massive. Why?

Because it defuses so many negative things.

First off, her ASD can't really kick in. Why not? Because she's not doing anything, and neither are you. You're just complimenting her. No girl is going to walk away from someone just because he says she's hot, not unless she's a nutter.

Secondly, it's a female fantasy. She's the femme fatale, destroying your resistance. The more fight you put up, the more resistance to her you express, and the more you lose this battle, the more she feels sexy.

YOU SAY I SHOULD KINO ESCALATE - HOW?

Look - you've gotta be savvy with it, but anyone who's good with girls will tell you that you can get very tactile very quickly as long as you aren't being weird.

Don't paw her. Slide your fingertips along her arms. Take her hand in yours, really, really lightly (this is killer). Glide your hands on her skin. Hardly touch her at all. Even move your hands toward her waist then pull them back as if dragging them back against resistance (don't be weird, it's all kinda tongue in cheek) and then give up. Then pull them back again. Then berate her more for being hot.

SHOULD YOU DO THIS AFTER A NORMAL OPENER?

I don't know what a normal opener is. I usually rock up and say hi, then blurt out something and play it by ear. Opening with this is sick though. You have to try it.

DON'T YOU NEED ZEN-MASTER LEVELS OF CALIBRATION?

No. You just have to be "not completely terrible."

Look - fair enough, calibration is important, but CALIBRATION DOES NOT MEAN HESITATION. You should be leading the encounter. Lead it. It goes where you go. You're the man.

WON'T THIS BREAK TOO MANY SOCIAL RULES?

That's WHY it works.

Yes - seriously.

The fact that you blame her means that she has to justify it as not being her fault.

But how can she do that? Is she going to say "I'm not that hot?"

No. She is a woman. She will, instead, love it.

It's a female fantasy, she's annihilating you with her looks alone. You're resisting but she's breaking you down.

They love it. Seriously, it's great.

DO I HAVE TO GO FOR BROKE EVERY TIME I USE THIS?

No. You can drop out of it any time with the line I gave you earlier

Also, this doesn't have to be used as such a high-octane thing.

Try dropping a little of it in here and there. See what happens. Learn to calibrate it. The vibe you want is half sexy mocking, half pure sex.

It is all about that vibe.

You can tell when you're good to go in for a kiss because she'll start darting in toward your lips then veering off, pretending it was by accident.

I call this "The Dive."

When you see this, grab her by the back of the neck and kiss the heck out of her.

SO ARE YOU SAYING I CAN JUST DO THIS?

Yup.

It's amazing how well this attitude defuses all the negative things about being really direct with girls.

And once you've defused them, boom - you can basically cut through all the tactics and just blast her with desire until she breaks.

WHAT IF I RUN OUT OF THINGS TO SAY?

A big part of this is about getting creative with your compliments. I don't want to give too many actual examples of stuff, mainly because the stuff you say doesn't have to be 'Da Vinci'.

This is NOT a routine-based method.

It is a direct method, a way of cultivating an attitude of non-weird, engaging, sexual expression. You can do it high octane and go for the Fool's Mate, or you can do it low-octane and just drop Shock and Awe SOI's in as and when in the context of chatting up a lovely young lady.

Sometimes you can strip it right down and say "You're really hot" to a girl, but in a kind of bolshy, accusing tone, almost like you're affronted by that fact. Like it's unfair, or out of context, or like she's just doing it to piss you off.

That works too.

Another one that I came up with that I thought was great (and makes a brilliant opener) is when I'm talking to a chick, to just look at her boobs, look back at her eyes, and then in my best Hugh Grantish voice say "I'm terribly sorry, I just totally checked you out."

They'll usually laugh and say "that's ok." or something. Then you can drop straight into S+A and say "It's your fault. You're totally stunning. I'm just some guy. I can't stand up to this kind of artillery."

I love saying that. The artillery thing. It's almost my trademark. Never got a bad reaction, ever. Not once.

SO I'VE JUST GOT TO BE FUNNY?

NO.

This is not a set of jokes.

It is a flow, a constant flow of jazz where the one thing goes into the other.

Occasionally the girl will coquettishly say "I'm sorry" when you blame her for being hot, to which you can blast back with "You're not sorry at all." And then she'll usually giggle.

Bless.

WARNING - GET YOUR INNER GAME SORTED OUT FIRST

There's something important that I want to say here.

I knew a guy who had major issues with women, really negative stuff. You know, when a guy gets vindictive, or harbours a grudge against women because they've never wanted him.

I showed him S+A, and pulled a couple of chicks in front of him so he could see it. He wanted to have a go.

It wasn't good.

When I watched him do this, you could actually see that he really was actually angry. It was scary and weird. We talked through a lot of it, but I realized that IF YOU DO ACTUALLY HARBOUR ACTUAL AGGRESSION OR RESENTMENT TOWARD WOMEN, THIS COMES ACROSS AND THEY WILL FREAK AND RUN.

Women are lovely. Remember this.

Just so everyone, especially guys who are absolutely starting out on this understand, there is no actual anger or malice involved in this. It's hard to convey voice tone over the Internet, so I'm going to spell this one out.

This is totally critical. It probably doesn't really need to be said on this list because this is a cool place, but I wanted to make that explicit. If you are actually angry with women, you need
to really address that before you do anything else, and certainly before you start pulling out stuff like this.

This is a way of expressing how much you desire a woman without weirding her out. THAT IS BASICALLY ALL S+A IS. It's just a highly concentrated way of doing it.

I know you guys get that here, I just wanted to get it in black and white so everyone's on the same page.

SO IF I DO THIS A CHICK WILL JUST JUMP ME?

If you do it right, very often she will, yes. HOWEVER - it's impossible to predict who will and who won't.

Depends on a million things. It can be very rapid, or it can take a while.

The beauty of this is that if it seems like she's not just in the mood to leap all over you, you can drop the S+A and just have a chat. Again, that line to segue into a more normal (though highly charged conversation is...

"no, you're not going to break me. I have depth. I'm going to get to know you properly, and there's nothing you can do about it. Tell me about yourself."

I'VE HEARD I SHOULDN'T GET GIRLS HORNY TILL WE'RE ALONE?

Disregard that utter garbage.

You get her properly BLAZING. Some guys will say that you should be tactical about this kind of thing.

I just can't be bothered.

As far as I see it, there's no point messing around when you're messing around with women.

WOW! THIS SOUNDS AMAZING! FINALLY! THE MAGIC PILL!

Nope. It's not a magic pill. As I said, this will only work for guys who are already reasonably comfortable with approaching.

If you're looking at this thinking "Awesome - now I don't have to do all those tricky approaches" then you're heading for a fall.

This takes guts.

Ok?

You need to get some guts, and you can only do that by approaching lots and lots of chicks and becoming cool with approaching.

Understand?

It's a Fool's Mate Game system that GENUINELY WORKS - but it is not the ANSWER to your PRAYERS.

Here's a good rule of thumb. If you're looking at this and getting excited because you think it's cool, odds are you're going to be able to do it.

If you're looking at this thinking it's the meaning of life, you're still a newbie and you need to get some experience.

Sorry.

OK, FAIR PLAY CIARAN. SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD TECHNIQUE THOUGH.

It's not a technique. It is a mode of sexual expression.

I mapped out the stages just to give you a feel of what to do, but I hope you guys can see that this isn't a tactical thing. This is what happens when you say "forget tactics" and just go for it.

I originally came out with this on a chick who was just ludicrously hot, amazing eyes, dress, legs, face, teeth, ears, nasal hair – the works. I was in an absolutely chipper mood, nimbus aglow, just on top form.

I opened by telling her that it was ridiculous to expect me to just walk on by with her looking like that. She smiled, so I kept on saying the same kind of thing. Next thing I know she's kissing me.

What I'm saying is that this HAS TO BE GENUINE. Direct game, if not genuine, is seedy, manipulative weirdness.

S+A is a vibe. It is a route of expression.

The inner game stuff, the practice - all that jazz, is the iceberg. This is the tip.

This is not a shortcut.

IT'S JUST NOT A MASSIVE DETOUR, which a lot of highly tactical systems are.

I'm certain that if you've never done anything like this before it is scary, so just understand that there are several elements to this that go on behind the scenes.

One is your general abilities of self-expression and creative speech. The other
big part of it is sexual expression.

CLOSING STATEMENTS

Shock and Awe is the pinnacle of direct game as I practice it.

Fool's Mate game.

No BS, no tactics, just straight in there, make a girl feel really hot, have great fun with her, be cool, go back to your/her place and do the hunka-chunka. Problem solved.

This isn't about tricking girls into stuff, or playing them. If you try that, you'll fail, and I will personally batter you senseless with your own shoes.

This is about refusing to be a leaf in the hurricane.

This is about being the hurricane, gentlemen.

Forget the leaf, my friends. Be the hurricane.

Ever Yours
Ciaran

Don't you know there's a war on?

You go out at LEAST 3 nights a week, and NO MORE than 5 nights a week.

You approach 5 girls per night, open, then hang in there and escalate in whatever way you can until you get blown out.

After your 5 are done you can do more if you want to, if you're in state or if you're just feeling keen.

But you ABSOLUTELY have to approach 5 chicks. And yes, a group of 5 girls still just counts as ONE approach.

You do 5 approaches a night.

Unless you pull, obviously.

Each approach you play TO THE WIRE. You do not do 'trial approaches.' You play that sh*t out until you get blown out.

You do not number close.

Yes, you heard me. You cannot fu*k a phone number, so you don't fu*king take them until AFTER you've fu*ked a girl.

You do not have a wingman.

Yes, you heard me. You tell yourself it's for backup, but really 90% of the time that 'backup' is just something for your ego to hide behind.

Be merciless with your ego.

Take the pain.

Take it all.

Don't b*tch, don't whine, don't complain. Be a fu*king man. Take it.

You approach scary sets, impossible sets, easy sets and anything else that looks like it has a vag1na.

You go to this website: www.eckharttolle.com

You buy ALL of his audio products.

You go to this website: www.apple.com

And you buy an iPod.

You put NO MUSIC on your iPod. You listen to Tolle relentlessly. Relentlessly.

Whenever you can, you listen to him. You fill your brain with his voice.

You get industrial about this. This is not self-help.

This is self-destruction.

You do this for two months.

Then you take a fortnight off.

Then you do it for two months.

Then you take a fortnight off.

You continue this process.

If you cannot do this because of your job, quit.

If you cannot do this because of your friends, ditch them.

If you cannot do this because of money concerns, drink water when you're out, go to bars with no cover charge and do it anyway.

Or kill someone and steal their wallet.

If you cannot do it because you are scared, face your fear and face it down.

Keep your method SIMPLE and YOURS.

You do not want to be THINKING. Steer clear of 'tactics' based game as you would steer clear of fuc*ing a leper.

Check out RSD's wiki (www.rsdwiki.com) and read the instructor's articles.

Click this link and read the article it links to. http://www.rsdnation.com/showthread.php?t=11273

If you are looking for a product to buy, buy an RSD product. They are all awesome and all of them will help you massively.

If you can afford a bootcamp, take one. If not, just fu*king go out and punch through that fu*king wall with your bare fists.

Success is nothing more than pressure over time, so be relentless.

Never accept your excuses.

Push yourself way, WAY beyond your pain threshold.

Be savage with your training, and you will see extreme improvement.

And remember - if you give up on this you are resigning yourself to a life of mediocrity.

Which, to any right thinking man, is way, way worse than death.

Now get up.

Get up now.

Turn your fuc*ing computer off and get up.

Get on your feet. Get out that door.

Whatever time of day or night it is, you get up. Now.

* hands you a rifle*

Get on your feet, soldier.

Don't you know there's a war on?

The Cartography Of Hell

The Cartography Of Hell

by Jekyll

PUA Dr Jekyll gives an epic article on his view of reality and how to use your own reality to become a succsessful Pickup Artist.

It's very easy to describe your surroundings. When someone gets themselves all sorted out, they look around themselves and see the simplicity of things, the easy truth about form and function. They see the simple truth about how we monkeys can mesh so easily with each other, the simple truth about the world, and it is so easy to forget all the shit they had to soldier through to get there.

That path was paved in pain, paved in struggle and in the face of constant failure. Each brick needed to be laid by hand. The road you travel from fear and isolation to strength and connection seems so simple when it's finished. But when you're building it, it is hard sometimes to see anything else but the endless work involved in sorting things out.

It's easy for those who have turned their lives around to look back on their past from a position of strength and see how all the fears that held them back were ultimately so pointless, so unreal. It is an easy trap to fall into, I think, to tell others to simply get over themselves, to face up to the fact that they have nothing to bitch about, and to just get out there and learn the skills they need to succeed.

But this, I think, is an illusion. C. S. Lewis makes a point brilliantly in a book called The Great Divorce about this psychological phenomenon. It is an amazing book, it's what started me looking at philosophy in the first place. Lewis has a lot to answer for. The book is about the difference between heaven and hell. Hell, he says, seems so big when you're in it. All the little excuses we build around ourselves seem so important to us when we're unhappy. They seem like the most important things in the world. They all seem so right, so powerful. So real.

When we live in fear, our minds fill out the universe that we perceive in terms of that fear itself. Everything is harsh and cold. Like fear. Harsh and cold. But then of course, once you get yourself strong, the gaping chasm of fear shrinks down to a mere crack in the pavement and you can see that all the terrors that held you back have no reality at all.

The emotional charge of everything you perceive around you is dictated by your emotional core.

When your emotional core is filled with strength, the whole world becomes friendlier, brighter, filled with opportunity. Everything is smooth, and cool. People like you, and things seem to fall into place. You find it easy to be effortlessly calm and easily expressive in the presence of the people you want to impress, be they beautiful women or amazing men. You deal with worries like you'd bat away a troublesome fly, and you love the thrill associated with challenge. You feel confident. Sometimes you even feel cocky, but you never get lost in the cockiness, because you feel so centred. Life is good.

When your emotional core is filled with fear, the whole world becomes colder and darker, filled with dangers. Everything is jagged, and all the edges cut you. People are distant and threatening, and it takes a monumental effort of will to appear normal so they will interact with you in a positive way. Your mask keeps slipping, and even when it is in place, the relationships that you have, be they with your friends or lovers, seem to stand on a knife's edge.

All the things that matter to you are fragile, and your life becomes a matter of juggling an ever increasing number of hugely important juggling balls. If you take your eye off them for one second and one falls, it smashes into pieces and takes your heart with it.

As a man living in fear, beauty paralyzes you. The attention of a stunning woman is literally stunning. It's like staring into the eyes of a Gorgon, you are petrified and held rigid in place by the fear you feel. You can only move and speak through a conscious effort of will. You have to force yourself to interact, and thus the interaction seems forced. You can only speak normally through a monumental commitment to training yourself to act normal under the onslaught of terror that consumes you.

It's not just women. It infects every aspect of your life. Sometimes to a greater degree, sometimes to a lesser degree, but the influence of fear is always there, clogging your mind, wrecking the subtleties and nuances of which you are capable of perceiving and expressing. You do not fight to fulfill the dreams you have because you see them as mere fanatasies. You panic more than you need to. You panic at everything. Small problems turn quickly into fiascos and crises. Sometimes it feels like there are no small problems, just a never ending, expanding list of insurmountable obstacles that hem you in like the bars of a cage. You feel trapped. Trapped and alone.

Whenever you feel satisfied, which doesn't happen very often, you cling to that feeling like its a piece of driftwood in an open sea. When you really have made an achievement against all odds, the magnitude of what you have done perverts the feeling of strength you would normally get from the feeling of acheivement. Your state of mind exaggerates the satisfaction you feel into a world-encompassing arrogance. So even when you do well, you victories become just one more wall that separates you from the people around you.

You are never centred. You wouldn't know what being centred looked like if it slapped you in the face. And sometimes, just sometimes, you look back on a night in with the people you love and you think how great it was just to chill. Just to be free. Just for one night to have to stop fighting so goddamned hard to keep your head above water.

And worst of all? You are alone.

Your loneliness eats you up inside sometimes. The more it pulls at you, the harder you try to build that mask of normality, to build that mask of happiness and strength to cover the seething mass of fear that boils beneath it threatening to blow the lid off everything like a pressure cooker left on too long.

To my recollection, that is what it feels like to be unhappy. That is what it feels like to live in fear. It is a terrible thing, a terrible and powerful trap. The reason I wrote this piece is not so that I could describe it from memory, but so I could explain what it is psychologically, and also to explain the route out of it. For the sake of convenience, and as something of a homage to my hero, C.S. Lewis, I'm going to refer to this negative state of mind as hell.

Hell seems so big when you're in it. All the world is hell when you live in fear. All your hopes and dreams are bittersweet, for you know in your heart that you'll never accomplish them. They exist only to lift you up in your mind for a while until the crushing weight of reality pulls you back down. Until the nastiness of the world you live in wakes you up to smell the coffee. Until the shittiness of reality brings you back to the terrible truth - that in a world of chaos, there is no purpose to anything. Not your hopes. Not your friendships. Not your lovers. Not even you.

Listen to me, and read the next words very carefully. Hell is not real.

Hell isn't real. It's not. It is a psychological phenomenon that gains power in a very specific way - a way that you can combat. Fighting your way out of it is hard, but worthwhile. Staying inside it is easy, but horrific. I'm not telling you to fight. That is your choice. I cannot make it for you. What I can say is that if you put off this battle now, you will find it easier to put it off next time. If you never fight, you will live your life in hell. You will die in hell. I can't tell you what will happen after that. You work it out. But remember - this is about now. This is about the life you live here, on earth, in hell. No one can pull you out. Not your friends, not your family. Not me. Your friends and your family can support you in the fight. I can give you a map of the battlefield. But I cannot throw your punches for you. Your demons are your own. You have to fight, or they will win. That is the choice you face.

The geography of hell is as complex as it is convincing. It is infinitely complex. It is infinitely convincing. It seems like all the world. It seems limitless. It seems real. There are very specific reasons for this, and I'll go into them right now.

Essentially, what you are experiencing is an evolutionary survival response that is an integral part of the psychological makeup of even the most balanced and confident human being. I don't believe that there's any point in saying here that hell is, in and of itself, a bad thing. I believe that, for me, it is horrific. But in and of itself, it simply is what it is. You can decide for yourself what internal world you wish to inhabit. I've made my choice. But this isn't about me. It's about people in general, and if you're a person, it's about you.

The psychological phenomenon that I refer to as hell derives from fundamental aspects of the human mind that are common to us all. These aspects all exist for a reason - as evolved creatures, all the different parts of our minds have evolved to be of immense use to us as individual creatures. When they all work as nature intended, the human animal becomes a juggernaut of brilliance. But if these parts of the mind are working against each other, it is always to the detriment of the individual involved. When taken to extremes it can be completely crippling. It is my opinion that the mental illness known as manic depression (also known as bipolar disorder) is nothing more or less than what happens to a person when the negative psychological processes I'm about to describe have taken hold to an extreme degree.

As far as I can see, there are three main parts to the human mind. One is emotional. One is rational. One is expressive. They appear to be distinct, but obviously they interact in incredibly complex ways and to draw a clear dividing line between the three can be difficult. Nonetheless, I'll talk about the first two in this article.

I believe you experience your emotional mind largely as (obviously) the feelings that you have. Your rational mind is somewhat more tricky, but its basic task appears to be the categorisation of reality. Your rational mind defines things. That's pretty much what it does. The information that flows into your mind through your senses is just a feed of data. Your rational mind defines what you see in reality by breaking up the information coming in into constituent parts. In this, it seems to have a kind of semi-autonomous decision-making process. But this is an illusion.

It breaks up the world into pieces and parts which logically follow on from and connect with the pieces and parts already in place. Clearly, the only time that this is impossible is with newborn babies where there are no rational concepts set and in place. I'm not sure how the mind forms initially, because to be honest with you, the specifics of child psychology are not really my area of expertise. Perhaps infants do nothing more or less than just try to emulate their parents, get love from them and try to make sense of what they see around them. This could be how the process begins. Nevertheless, if you are old enough to read this, the process has well and truly taken hold in your brain, because otherwise you wouldn't be able to read.

Once the information about the world is broken into parts, the rational mind ascribes limits around these parts, boxing them up into what we experience as concepts. It then draws links between these concepts, defining the relationships between them. It defines these relationships, again, by ascribing limits to them. Then, it builds models of reality using the defined concepts as bricks and the relationships between them as mortar. These models can be, and almost always are, unbelievably sophisticated. Nonetheless, they retain several key features of the concepts and relationships of which they are constructed.

Firstly, these models are static. Secondly, these models are limited. Finally, these models are inventions of the human mind, and as such, they have no reality in and of themselves. They are, essentially, thoughts about the way things are.

I'll go through these qualities one by one and explain what I mean.
I

Firstly, static. When our rational minds break down our sense perceptions into concepts, they do so in a very specific way. They draw dividing lines. They draw dividing lines around a concept, and divide that concept from the rest of reality so we can interact with it, intellectually, as an autonomous unit.

These concepts can be very simple. The concept of a chair, for instance. Pretty simple concept. I would define a chair, in my understanding, as anything specifically designed by someone for the primary purpose of seating one person. It has to be designed - a tree stump that is great for sitting on is not a chair. Also, a chair has to have been constructed primarily for the purpose of sitting in. Although a chair can do other things, the primary purpose behind it's design must be to seat one person. You can get chairs with back massagers and beer fridges built in, but all of these features are incidental to its primary purpose. Finally, a chair is only designed to seat one person. You could fit more than one onto it if you wanted to, the chair was big enough, and you didn't mind the squeeze, but if it is built to seat two or three people, it's a couch.

Pretty straightforward. There are many kinds of chairs. Shitloads of them. They come in different shapes, sizes, colours, and features. You get rocking chairs, wooden chairs, armchairs - I think you get my point.

In reality, these things are a massive number of atoms and molecules, subatomic particles and, at a quantum level, probability functions. Did you know that if you look at the chair you're sitting on right now, at the exact place where your arse meets the surface of the chair, there is no place on an atomic level where you can actually say - "here is where the chair ends and the arse begins?" The atoms of each blend into each other. There is no dividing line. There is no division in reality. It's all just atoms and stuff.

So what are we doing when we look at that shaped mass of atoms upon which, dear reader, your posterior rests? We're slotting it into a static concept so we can interact with it as a separate entity.

And that concept is static. No matter how wild, weird or wacky the chair, the concept of 'chair' remains the same. Exactly the same. It just does not change, not at all.

Now that is weird. Everything in the universe, everything in reality, is changing all the time. Moving through time, aging, decaying. Perhaps if whatever we're considering is alive it is moving and growing. But even if we've frozen something in a cryogenic tank of liquid nitrogen, it is still changing, slowly, at a molecular level.

Even if you freeze something to absolute zero, and even in a pure, totally empty vacuum, there is change. It is called vacuum energy, and plays itself out as minute fluctuations in probability at a quantum level.

So nothing is static. Nothing except our thoughts about the world. Interesting. All static concepts are by definition, incorrect. They can never nail reality, because reality is moving and they are not. Even this work I'm writing about the human mind cannot take into account the fact that evolutionary change is shifting us all, incredibly slowly, at every level. But hell, I'm not worried. It should be pretty accurate for the next few hundred thousand years. Heh heh.

When we use these concepts to build larger, more sophisticated models of reality, those models are static also. The more sophisticated the model, and the more of the world it has defined and categorised within itself, the more we see the world in static terms. This is not necessarily bad, as the minute changes in the world around us like the ones I mentioned earlier, like aging, evolution, quantum fluctuations and atomic movement are far to large or too small to perceive. This process of categorisation therefore, is actually really effective for interfacing with the world around us as we see it.

"So what's the problem, and where's my point?" I hear you cry. Well, it's simple. Very simple. The human mind is a rapidly changing and unbelievably dynamic system of interlocking faculties and facets, and as such, no individual person can be categorised in this manner. Not me, not you. We are, quite simply, too dynamic for any static model to ever fully encompass. Sure, as human beings we are all basically the same machine. And sure, that machine has some pretty straightforward fundamental dynamics, and these can be understood at a basic level.

But no-one, unless something really amazing happens that I simply cannot forsee, will ever make anything that comes within a million miles of even approaching a complete analysis of even a single human mind. I am looking at just three parts of the mind - its core, our personal psychological health and how we interact with the world around us. Each of these areas is, in and of itself, infinitely complex, and their interactions infinite also. Yet they remain based on fundamental principles that are understandable in a straightforward sense. And even though those principles can be understood and do indeed operate upon straightforward principles, they are nowhere near as straightforward a thing as, say, a chair.

So when we turn our analytical minds inward and attempt to number crunch ourselves, we get hopelessly lost extremely quickly. As an academic exercise, I believe philosophy to be the most difficult thing that a person can do. To attempt to make sense of the shifting infinity of the human condition using your own dynamic mind as the tool with which to do so is a little like trying to hit a black-clad ninja straight between the eyes with a hand-held catapult when each of you is on separate ships in a stormy sea.

But we're not talking about academics. We're talking about life, about happiness, about horror and hell. If your self-image is something that you build yourself with your rational mind, it will be static. Because of this, you will see yourself as contained by a static concept which defines you. It is all you are. It ascribes limits to your worth. It ascribes limits to your abilities. It ascribes limits to your faculties and your future. It boxes you in. It makes you finite. It suffocates your potential. It sets bars around your humanity. It sucks you down.
II

The static models we build of the world are limited. A concept exists only because of the dividing lines that make it separate from other concepts and the world at large. A thing is this and not that because it possesses qualities that are that and not this. the only existence that concepts have, psychologically, is in the divisions that define them. These divisions are set, they are static, and thus rigid. Now, normally these models and the concepts and relationships which comprise them can be altered in a very specific way. This is how we learn. We hone and build our models so that they become more sophisticated and allow us to better interact with the world in which we live. It is possible to come up with a new concept or model by drawing new dividing lines, to refine or expand an existing concept or model by adding further divisions to it, or to throw a concept or model out wholesale. So a model can and does change over time.

But with all this change, how can it be said that these models are limited?

The divisions that make them up are rigid, absolute divisions. These divisions are, fundamentally, binary. The binary system at the heart of the human mind is not between one and zero, like a computer. It is between one and infinity. The failure to get this is, I think, why computers simply cannot match the human mind for versatility or ability to interface with the environment. This may be a good thing. We've all seen Terminator.

So - the binary system at the heart of the rational process. To put it plainly, the human mind does not separate things into one thing and another thing. It separates them into one thing and everything else. This difference is massive and pivotal. It is how our minds interact with the world. Take a jar of pasta sauce, for instance. In reality, at an atomic level, there is no dividing line between that jar and the world around it. They are all part of an infinite reality, and as I mentioned before, there is no division in that reality. What our rational minds are doing is using the divisions that define concepts to bracket 'things' off from the whole of reality so we can interact with them as individual parts, even though in truth they are not. This allows us to interact with small, neatly categorised sections of reality, and not just the whole thing all at once.

This is why human beings can interact with their environment to a level that is simply without parallel in the animal kingdom.

We can use this to do loads of things, such as, for instance, making some spagetti bolognaise. The important thing to remember is that we do not categorise things because of their difference from other stuff we have already categorised. We categorise a thing it in it's own right, as something distinct from the reality that surrounds it. I mean, sure we draw the dividing lines that define that thing based on what we know already from life. And sure, we then assign meaning to it based upon the model of the world we have built so far. But the fundamental distinctions that build a concept are put together as tools to separate it from the roiling mass of reality around it.

Something is either this or not this. The same or other. Accurate or inaccurate. True or not true. One thing, or everything else. One or infinity. Binary.

There is no middle ground. Even the concept of 'maybe' is defined by rigid divisions which separate it from the concepts of 'certainly' and 'never'. The binary nature of these divisions means that the concepts built out of them, and the models built out of those concepts have an absolute quality to them that is an inescapable characteristic of what they are.

Why are they like this? Well, evolutionarily it would make sense that the monkeys best able to interact with their environments in useful ways would be the most useful monkeys to ally with. They would therefore be selected by the best of their group as the monkey with which to ally, and they would prosper on an individual level. Thus there was a strong evolutionary pressure to be able to interact with the world in effective and useful ways.

The models you build of the world around you are tools. They are evolutionary tools, like your hands and feet, which allow you to interact with the physical world around you. That is their purpose. To draw distinctions between things, bracket them up into concepts and build those concepts into models just so you have enough of an understanding of the world to be able to interact with it in a positive way. So basically, the reason everything is so absolute when it comes to the models is that there is no real evolutionary value in building better and better models in your head in order to 'get closer to the truth'. The only value this whole process has in evolutionary terms is when these models allow us to get things done in the real world. They allow us to achieve complex tasks, which not only aids our survival but the survival of our allies.

A common philosophical misconception is that because there are many truths about any single thing, we can never reach a real or exact understanding of anything. The first part of this sentence is true, the second, false. It is true that there are an infinity of different things you can say about any one thing, and all of them are true. But this does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that therefore all truth is relative and as such, non-existent.

This is basically because there is only one totally correct answer to any question. You can never understand the entire truth about any part of reality, because to do so would mean asking an infinite number of questions about it. But you can ask specific questions about these parts and answer those questions completely. This is because there are limitations inherent in the concepts of which all questions are comprised.

All the questions that we ask are limited by their very nature. They have to be, because they are built from static, limited concepts. They proceed from discrepancies and loose ends in the models we build of the world. So if I ask something like "What is kindness" or "what are the basic dynamics of humanity?", each of these questions are constructed of static concepts, such as 'kindness,' 'basic,' 'dynamics,' and 'humanity'. The answer therefore, can be exact and correct within the parameters of the question set. By asking rational questions about reality, we are setting the finite terms for the answers to those questions to be themselves limited and rational, yet also to perfectly correspond with the reality around us within the limits implicit in the question.

I guess it's just a case of knowing what to ask, having the balls to ask it and having the strength of character and insight to punch through the shit till you find the truth. And of course, never resting your self image on any of the insights that you get or your identity as someone who has the balls to seek the truth. Oh yeah, and not getting caught up on the importance of an idea that seems so wonderfully true, no matter how much you want to hold on to it with all your heart.

So we can come to real answers to the questions we're prepared to ask. It's not easy, but we can. The reason it isn't easy is that understanding the truth about the world is not the primary purpose of the rational mind. The rational mind builds models of the world which serve as tools to allow us to interact with it in new and creative ways. The models we build are tools, that is their evolutionary purpose, and that is the evolutionary value of them. Otherwise they are just thought patterns that bounce around inside a person's head, and of no use to anyone. Thoughts that do not help you to interact with the real world have no benefit in helping you to survive, or to reproduce. This means that evolutionarily, they are dead ends.

This is, incidentally, why geeks are not attractive to the opposite sex. An intelligent person is not necessarily a geek. A geek is not necessarily intelligent. A geek is someone who gets sucked in to refining their rational models of the world for their own sake - which while having massive benefits from the point of view of modern technology and other such modern wizardry, is a lonely kind of existence. People just aren't attracted to you - men as friends or women as lovers. They are calibrated to feel that you have no evolutionary value because the models that you are refining have no obvious practical applications. It's a little like seeing someone polishing their glasses incessantly but never putting them on.

But to be honest, being a geek is, although not much fun, a lot easier of a trap to climb out of than that of defining yourself by a set and limited identity. Attempting to define one's self by a set identity or concept is an extremely easy thing to do. It's a very subtle step to take, and one that is often taken for moral reasons, but nevertheless it is critically and necessarily destructive of the things inside you that give you strength.

If you define yourself by any static concept, be it your race, your gender, your social status, your wealth, your success, your beauty, your charisma, your intelligence, your nationality, being a martyr, being a hero, a specific skillset or a specific level of knowledge that you have in a certain thing, you are cutting away the infinite power of your humanity. You are crippling yourself. You are closing off unexplored avenues of your potential that you will never even know about, let alone realise.

So do not try to define yourself by swearing your allegiance to anything that defines you entirely. It will destroy you entirely. That is the way of things.
III

The third and final quality of the models that we have in our minds which we will examine in this article (and yes, there are many others) is the fact that they are not real. They have no reality. They exist in reality only as electrochemical impulses in the lump of meat that's sitting on top of your neck. What this means is that if you look at any of these concepts important in it's own right thing and strive for it directly, you are striving for a fiction, you are striving to become something that has no existence. If you look at any of these concepts and attack it as the most evil thing that exists, again, you are attacking a fiction. Committing yourself to doing either will simply destroy you. You get what you look for. If you seek to become something that is fundamentally empty and hollow, you yourself will reach that goal.

And sure, there are things in this world that are fantastic, and sure, there are things in this world that are terrible. But if you get fixated upon the importance of any specific thing, you will be subtly consumed by a destructive addiction in which your entire internal world of thought is re-calibrated in terms of the emptiness of the thing you seek. This is what obsession is. As I mention elsewhere, we choose the meaning of our own lives. It is an incredible gift to have such monumental power over our own existence, but as with any awesome power it can be terribly destructive. If you choose something real, something awesome, you will save your life and be a force for massive good in the world. If you choose to make the meaning of your life a set ideology, a set of religious regulations, a set of beliefs whatever they may be - even atheism - you will destroy yourself and remain in hell forever. It's just the truth. You can't stop it.

If you turn your rational mind outward, you can change the world. If you turn it inward, your destruction is guaranteed.

When you lose yourself to a static concept, even if it is something as subtle as your image of some individual as 'all you need to be happy,' or your image of yourself a a 'pickup artist,' or your rage at something that a person has done, you are stepping into a psychological world that is built of limitations.

This is a subtle process, especially in the early stages. But it is a slippery slope, and there is no preset limit in reality that dictates how far you can fall. There are no limits in reality. It's a little tricky to get your head around, but to sum it up in a sentence, I would say that you can be consumed by limitations to a limitless degree. You may know people who are like this. People who only see the world in terms of moral absolutes, who only see the world in terms of what they can't do. And the strange thing is that although you can get positive and negative concepts - compassion would be a positive concept and depression would be a negative one, for instance - the people who only see the world in terms of set concepts are pretty much universally unhappy.

A world of limitations, harsh edges and rigid definitions of right and wrong is a cold and horrible place to live. And while even in hell you can and will have flashes of happiness that arrive like momentary breaks in the cloud cover, you know at some level that all the happiness that you have is fleeting and transitory. This is because when you are trapped inside a rational model of your own construction you see the world in terms of limitations, and so anything good in your life is bittersweet, for you know it must end, and you see that ending as the end of all the happiness in your life. In truth, if you are deep inside of hell, it probably is. Do not try to cling to the things that make you happy. Fight the things that bring you down.

I remember one time, years ago, when I was walking hand in hand down the street with the first girl I fell in love with. I was very young, 19 at the time, but she was my whole world. She made everything bright and wonderful. And I remember thinking that at some point during the evening, she was going to have to go home. It made me so sad, and she sensed that. She asked me what was wrong, and I told her, I told her I was sad because I knew she'd have to go away at some point that night. She looked at me like I was from Mars. I could see that she just could not understand why I was putting a negative slant on our time together. She just didn't think like that. That was not the world in which she lived. She lived somewhere better. For a time, when I was with her, I was able to share glimpses of a world magnificent and exquisite in its wonder and beauty.

Setting limitations on positive things is immensely damaging to their positivity. Limitations on negative things just add to their complexity and scale. This is the mechanism of chronic unhappiness. It is lose-lose situation. You cannot think your way out of hell. The divisions that your thoughts are making kill the power of the good things in your life, and add weight and the illusion of reality to the things that drag you down. Chronic unhappiness and chronic negativity are caused by plunging into a world that is built, at a fundamental level, from divisions. Any further divisions you make to the world around you - any by that I mean any new concepts that you come up with at all, simply add to the sophistication and credibility of the model that is pulling you down. And they pull you away from the real things in your life that will give you joy, like real love and true friendship, because these things are real, and there is no division in reality.

Unfortunately, the further you plunge into the static models you build, the easier it becomes to rapidly categorise the feelings inside you in terms of static concepts. These are often concepts linked to the idea of justice. Basically, life seems very unfair. If you catch yourself saying this, railing against life for the unfairness of the chaos around you, stop. You have to stop. There are things in this world that are terrible, and things that are horrific. There are crimes so despicable that it would make you break out in a cold sweat just to read about them. I personally find that the holocaust always gets this reaction from me. But these these things are not fair or unfair. They are, very simply, tragic.

It's okay to be sad. Just don't get lost in railing against the universe for it's random nature. The universe just is. It simply exists. Getting angry at reality for the shit you encounter within it is like getting angry at an earthquake for taking your house apart. Mourn the loss you've suffered. Don't feel that being sad is a sign of weakness, it is not. It is a part of your humanity. It will happen. Accept that. But for the love of God, build yourself a new house - and this time build it stronger than last time, so that next time the ground shakes, your house stays up.

Never analyse the things that give you joy. Just be happy they exist. Revel in them. Become lost in joy. It's great fun.

Just don't get lost in the things that at one time or another triggered joy within you. Those 'things' have no reality. If you chase them, you will get lost in a jagged abyss of loneliness and self-hate. It sounds dramatic, and it doesn't start as anything that big. You just get locked into a process which feeds off itself, a process with no upward limit in terms of scale. It can consume you. It will consume you if you let it. And this is not because you are weak, or because you are in some way less than the others around you - it is just the inescapable truth of what happens to a person who follows the concepts they seek as if those concepts had any reality of their own. Seeing as it is those concepts that are the only way we can interface with reality at an intellectual level, it is an easy mistake to make.

This goes for any concept. Even positivity itself, as a concept, has no reality. You cannot get by just by looking on the bright side. A relentlessly positive outlook is a blunt instrument with which to deal with the shifting infinity of the life you lead. This is only incidentally to do with other people and your impact upon them. It has to do with you, and how you feel inside. How strong you are. How happy and successful your life will be in the long term. And the short term too.

Embrace the full spectrum of your humanity. It is fashioned by evolution to make you strong. When everything is in sync, you will become a powerhouse of happiness, evolutionary value, and positivity. But that happiness, value and positivity will just rise from inside you because of magnificence and wonder of the life you live. You will not impose it upon your feelings from the outside. It will be an inescapable part of your life. And shit - who'd want to escape from that? Positivity rocks.

..........................

So those are three key facets of the models we build of the world around us which lead inescapably to the conclusion that if you allow yourself to see those models of the world as reality, you will destroy yourself. This is not an academic issue. This is to do with you as a human being. Your life, such as it is. All the problems you face and the gifts you've been granted by your evolutionary heritage can either crush you completely or lift you up, higher than you knew any person could go.

This is the situation you face. It is a situation you face because you are a human being, and these things are hardwired into you by four million years of evolution. You cannot escape it, any more than you can run away from your own legs. So what is the answer? How, with all these monumental traps, pitfalls and downward spirals around you can you hope to transcend the shit you're dealing with right now?

I mention this elsewhere. In order to overcome all this shit and to turn it into something useful, something great, you have to get yourself out of the shit you're in. There's no fancy way to do that, not that I've ever discovered. There is only one effective way that I know of. Only one way to attempt something as audacious as attempting to change your life that promises any real chance of success.

Fight.

Fight as hard as you can. Face your fears. Fight your fears. Fight the fears that stop you from having the courage to truly express what you want to say. It takes a lot of courage to be honest. Fight your fear, so that you can genuinely express your amazing and beautiful self.

In hell, you define yourself and the people around you in terms of static, limited, artificial concepts. 'Good person.' 'Bad person.' 'Friend.' 'Enemy.' Because you have defined them as static, artificial and limited concepts, you automatically treat them as 'things' - because static concepts are intended by nature to denote inanimate parts of the world around you.

Being manipulative is a symptom of being in hell. But It is also a cause. Treating people like objects is bad for you. Not bad for them. Not bad in some vague moral sense. Treating people like objects is massively damaging to your emotional health, your happiness, and the wonderful future you may yet grasp. It is, perhaps, the most insidious of all of hell's tricks - to pull you in by putting manipulative people in your path and making you think of them as nothing more than obstacles to your life. They may well be obstacles to your life. But that is not all they are. They are human beings with the full emotional range of their inherited humanity.

Even the most sadistic, evil criminals and butchers in the world's history were people, just like you, and just like me. They were lost in hell. That is why they brought hell to the world by their actions. Their internal world was as cold and as heartless as horror they brought to the lives of others. Inasmuch as this is true, there is a kind of natural, inescapable justice to the human condition. Your selfish acts destroy you, even as they get you closer to the things you think you want. At the same time, you must be always mindful not to follow them into hell. Empathy is your only defence against this. Force yourself to empathise with the people you hate, and even if you simply cannot conceive of a world in which their horrific actions could ever be justified, rest assured that such a world does exist. It is the world in which they live. And it is rigid, static and artificial. Leave them to it. You have bigger fish to fry.

Your fear is your compass - the things you are afraid of will always be the things that you need the most to confront to make yourself happy. Don't dodge around them. Don't work out coping strategies. Fight them like a fucking nutter. Fight them until you have beaten them all to death with the sheer force of your will, your courage, and all of the amazing strength of character that your evolution has placed at your disposal.

And about that strength of character? It is there within you. I know sometimes it does not feel that way, but just for one second step back from yourself and think. Every single ancestor that you've ever had had pretty intense shit to deal with at some point or other in their lives, and they dealt with it. They dealt with it in a multiplicity of different ways, but in the end all of the things they did to get that next generation up and running were made possible through their strength of character, strength which just enabled them to keep on going. To stay in contention, no matter the odds weighed against them. You have four million years of evolution backing your personality. You can afford to have a little more faith in its durability than perhaps you do.

Your self doubt is, to be honest with you, fucking laughable. It's just stupid. Self doubt is, by definition, wrong. This is because your self is strong. Your 'self' is the only part of you that you never have to doubt. It has to be. Four million years of evolution have fashioned it as the keystone of the human animal's success. Our entire bodies have evolved around the needs of our personalities. Our bodies are strong, but flesh can be injured so badly it cannot recover. A mind can suffer the most extreme of traumas, traumas that would reduce the body to a fine white ash, and reconstitute itself stronger and better than before. This is because it is strong. And not strong like stone, or even steel. It is strong like diamond.

You experience this strength of character as a choice. From your point of view, that is all it is. Just a choice. It is the choice you make when you stand on the brink of giving up. The choice to turn back from the edge and pick up all the pieces of your life, and try to build something with them, or to take that step over the edge, and just give up the fight. To get busy living, or get busy dying. It is the only choice we face. Make your choice. Commit yourself to whichever one you want. I cannot tell you what to choose, and I cannot choose it for you.

So yes, a choice. Always a choice, and always the same choice. Strength of character is what we call the quality of a person who just decides not to quit when all logic and reason is telling you that you should quit. And let me just quickly say something about that. If logic, reason, or any other thing or person inside you or in the world you live is telling you to give up on yourself, just fucking don't. Just don't listen. Fuck logic. Fuck reason. Fuck anything that tells you that you should give up on being happy. If we want to, if we just keep deciding not to quit at every step of the way, the things we can survive and achieve would take your breath away.

Your strength of character is, in real terms, limitless. As long as, no matter what, you just keep choosing to fight on whenever you are faced with the choice to fight on or surrender, you will never run out of fire with which to fight.

Never give up. Fight. Never stop fighting. Fight your fears. Face the things that terrify you. Write a list then punch through it one by one if you have to.

Or just pick the biggest one and go for it like it's the thing that's always ruined everything good in your life. Because you know what?

It is.

It just is.

Ever Yours,

Jekyll

My First Threesome

My First Threesome

by Jekyll

Dual Induction Massage my hairy white ass.

Ironic, really. I'd just spent the morning monkeying around Edinburgh, and I'd bought a book on philosophy and a new copy of Neil Strauss's The Game, having given my original away as a present to a clueless chum. It was still early afternoon, so I dropped in to a pub I used to work at on Edinburgh's Royal Mile. I bumped into a friend of mine, Richard, who is a natural player of real talent and panache, and we sat outside at a table, smoking cigarettes, drinking beer and shooting the shit.

A couple, Daniel and Sarah (friends of Richard), sat with us, and after a while the topic turned to the books I was reading. The book on philosophy drew the predictable derisive accusations of pretention, which in all fairness I agree with. Most books on modern philosophy are only useful if you're fresh out of toilet paper, so we all had a chuckle about that.

Then Richard started ripping on me for reading The Game. He'd never read it (and in all fairness he doesn't need to), and in classic alpha style he starts trying to belittle me in an amusing and charming way over these "tricks" and "techniques" that I'm allegedly into. I don't even remotely rise to it, I just talk about Strauss, Mystery, and the story of the book. I also talked, lightly but genuinely about how it changed my life, which it did. I spoke briefly about the kind of guy I was a year ago when I'd walked away from a relationship I really cared about with an awesome girl. I explained that it was because I knew that the attraction, the electricity - whatever name you want to stick to that spark of magic that had drawn us together in the first place - had gone and I had no idea how to bring it back. All I could do was jump, before I was pushed. Sometimes I still miss her, but I didn't tell them that. I never tell anyone that.

I mentioned in passing about how I'd sworn to myself that I'd never walk away from someone I loved again, but I had no idea how to beat the insecurities with women that had dogged me my whole life. Then I read The Game.

Richard's comments on routines also didn't bother me because I personally find the free-form, genuine and sexually expressive ideas of Juggler and Gunwitch to be far more in tune with my personality. All this time, I'm just being open. I'm just being genuine. I don't give a fuck what they think. Nonetheless, I decide to have a chuckle and start telling them about Style's Dual Induction Massage routine. At this point, Daniel perks up. Even Richard looks interested, and a flash of playerish respect whispers across his chiseled face for Strauss's manipulative genius.

Sarah starts to get stroppy, not at me - she's smiling at me - but at her boyfriend who's getting altogether too excited at the possibility of engineering a threesome with two random girls.

All this time, the beautiful sound of girlish laughter is rising from the table next to me. Whoever they are they're having fun. I don't look around. There's no need to. Not yet.

Sarah stands to leave, and she squeezes my hand slightly as she shakes it. I nod imperceptibly, and then give Daniel a megawatt smile and a handshake. He returns my grip, oblivious. They leave.

Richard's also heading off, and I'm not going to stop him. I have work to do.

So there I am. Sitting in the smoking area. Socially proofed by three friends, but now alone with my book. The book makes me look normal. Intellectual even, if you believe women read that far into things. But then of course, I'm not reading. I'm listening.

Every now and then, an opener is handed to you on a plate. It's so easy. It's not just an opening line, but also a chance to demonstrate some real personality, humour and worth. There are four hot American girls. One of them is talking about Blackadder.

"No," One of them says, "It's the funniest show ever!"
I turn around.
"Are you talking about Blackadder?" I ask.
"Yeah." The girl says. She's pretty. Grungy, a bit of a rock chick. Looks like Lori Petty from Tank Girl.
"I fucking love Blackadder. How the hell do you know about it? You're American." Please God, I think - let her not be Canadian...
"My mom watches it - she's got all the scripts and everything." Thank fuck.
"Fucking cool." I turn to the group, to the chick who Tank Girl was originally talking to. "Blackadder," I continue, "is a comedy series from the 90's - it's written by Richard Curtis, the guy who wrote Four Weddings and a Funeral."
"Oh," She says. She had no idea.
"Yeah. It's brilliant, but the first series was a bit crap. Blackadder's character was a bit of a clown, but he turns into the most acerbic, sarcastic bastard in the second series. He's brilliant." Tank Girl perks up.
"That's exactly what I was going to say!" She says, brightly.

Houston, we have lift off. We're talking about Blackadder, swapping impressions and jokes, going into general comedy chat. It's all pure gold. We go inside. We drink. We talk about porn. We go outside for more cigarettes. I give the girls alone time for a chat every now and then when I'm getting indicators of interest from one of more of them so they can all have a girly giggle about how hot I am.

After a while two of the girls leave. I pull them both in for a hug, and they love it. They go, after telling me that they'll be in X bar tonight and I should really be there. I'm left with Tank Girl, and a pretty blonde chick who I discover is half Italian, half Native American Indian. Nice. I shall hereafter refer to her as Pocahontas.

So were chatting, and one of them makes a wisecrack about something. We all laugh.

"Aw shit, you girls are lovely. I'm really glad I randomly started talking to you." I say.

This is good shit. In a one-on-one with a chick, or in a group when you get them laughing, when you sense that they're happy you can roll this shit out. Technically (in Style-speak) it's a way to force, and to make explicit, a hook point. It's like using crampons to climb a mountain. It doesn't really matter how they respond either. They don't have to come back with a compliment - although they will if you've gauged it right - as long as you're not phased by them not telling you you're cool in return, they'll feel guilty when you just keep on talking. They'll feel guilty because you show that you weren't trying to play them, you were just being genuinely nice. They'll definitely tell you you're cool the next time you tell them you're glad you spoke to them. If you gauge it right, that is. Just make sure you mean it. It makes all the difference.

They look very slightly taken aback, but then Tank Girl picks up the ball and runs with it. "You too," she replies "absolutely. You seem like a really cool guy. The only guys we've met here have been really sleazy or weird. You're just really cool. Isn't he cool?" "Sure, he's great" says Pocahontas.

You can just say thanks to a compliment, or you can be cocky. But the best thing I've ever found is to really, genuinely take compliments to heart. It feels good, for one thing. It helps your self-esteem. It shows you're not invulnerable for another thing- it shows you're human without being a big pussy. It creates a real and powerful emotional connection with people. Finally, if someone senses that they've given a compliment and someone is really impressed with it, they usually elaborate on it. This is brilliant. The following I said in a level-headed, non-gushy but totally genuine way. Because it was genuine. I meant it all.

"That's really, really nice of you to say. Thanks. That means a lot to me. You have no idea."
"No, I mean it. You're fantastic," says Tank Girl. "You're funny, you're cool, you're great fun." She's beaming at me.
"Yeah, really" says Pocahontas. She smiles at me, and drops her eyelids ever so slightly.
"Shit girls, that's lovely. You're both so fucking sweet. I could eat you both up. Come here." We have a three way hug. I kiss them both on the cheeks.

Every now and then, Tank Girl has been dropping little clues about her being a lesbian. I don't rise to it. She mentions this girl she kissed, and I act like she's talking about the weather. Eventually she comes out with it – in fact, she comes out. We've been talking for about 3 hours now from the Blackadder approach. She apologises about not telling me earlier (?) but explains she didn't want to freak me out (?), offend my sense of morality (?) or scare me off (?) because she was enjoying my company and she wasn't sure how I'd react.

Just a word to the Yanks reading this. What the fuck? Are you mad? Why is this hot lesbian chick afraid to tell guys she likes pussy? Why does she think I'll get moralistic on her ass? Do you do that? What the fuck? Why does she think I'll get scared? Are you scared of hot lesbians? What the fuck? What are you saying to your hot lesbians? What the fuck is wrong with you people?

Anyway. I clearly don't give a fuck and I tell her as much. In fact, I tell her that I wouldn't know where to begin to give a fuck if you gave me a roadmap to give-a-fuck City Central and a really compelling reason to go. She then tells me that she has a girlfriend. I get the sense that this is bait, so I don't let my disappointment show in my face. What can I tell you – I want this chick. I love Tank Girl. Lori Petty is hot. But the bait is out, and I feel like a bug under a microscope - like I'm being subtly examined by both chicks for any sense of neediness. I show none. Poker-face-tastic. After a few minutes more of banter she lets slip that her girlfriend doesn't mind her playing with other people when she's on vacation as long as they tell each other. Once more my poker face comes into play, and I just about restrain myself from punching the air and doing an Irish jig. Pocahontas says that she's single, and she hasn't got laid in ages. Once more, I stop myself, and don't do a cartwheel.

"So, you're a lesbian, eh?" I ask. "How's that working out for you?" Love that question. It's from Tyler Durden in Fight Club.
"Love it." She replies.
"Have you ever been with a guy?"
"Yeah, but not since I came out. How about you?"
"I snogged my best friend once in a game of Truth or Dare," I answer truthfully.
"Did you like it?" She asked.
"No," I said. "No, it was fucking nasty." A shudder ran through my body at the memory. I'm shuddering as I type this. Ick.
"I bet you liked it a little," Tank Girl says.
"I really, really didn't. I think it's different for guys, and I don't think a lot of women get that, especially gay women. No offence, but it really is different."
"What do you mean?" Asks Tank Girl.
"Well shit. I was talking to a friend of mine, this girl called Susan - she was the one I was playing the same Truth or Dare game with, incidentally. She snogged her friend, this chick called Clare, and she said that for girls, even straight girls, it's not really a big deal. It's more like an extension of your friendship."
"Yeah, yeah I can see that." Pocahontas said.
"How about you," I asked Pocahontas, "have you ever kissed a girl?"

Stay frosty. Thread the needle.

"No, never."
"Wow." I said.
"Really?" Said Tank Girl.
"Well, shit," I say. "We're all on holiday. I'm sorry - 'vacation'. You two should kiss."
Tank Girl looks at Pocahontas like a wolf contemplating a newborn lamb.
"Sure, c'mere." She says, and a chick-on-chick tonguedown commences.

Nice.

So once they come up for air, Tank Girl leans back in her chair. She looks at me. I look at her.
“So how was she?” I ask Pocahontas.
“Good. Very good.” Pocahontas replies.
“Hmm. If I were to kiss you,” I say to Tank Girl, “How would I rate you on a 1-10 scale?” Thanks for that, Wayne. All I want for Christmas is you.
“You can kiss me if you want.” Tank Girl says.
“Cool.” I say. It is cool. We kiss. When we break away, I lean back in my chair. I look at Pocahontas. I raise my eyebrows. She nods, smiling. I lean over. I kiss Pocahontas. We
come up for air.
“I've never had a three way kiss,” says Pocahontas.
“Well come on then,” I say.
We all share a three way tonguelashing. I love my life.

Just to clarify, this is me and two hot American chicks I've only just met. We're in broad daylight in the smoking area of a pub on Edinburgh's Royal Mile, one of the busiest streets in the city. It's very picturesque. Do check it out sometime. There's a castle and everything.

After some more playful banter, Tank Girl gets up to use the toilet, and I'm left there with Pocahontas. A quick word on being tactile with the ladies. There's no such things as good touching or bad touching in my eyes. All non-sleazy physical contact is good, as long as the woman accepts it. The way I like to break down the initial barriers with chicks physically is a little like the way you use italics in a sentence for emphasis. This is a bit random, but it's the cheapest, most inoffensive kinesthetic contact this side of a backrub. Use touch to emphasise your words, in exactly the same way that you use italics in a sentence. Hold the touch for the duration of the emphasis – the italics – then take your hand back. Hold their eyes the whole time.

To be honest, I don't even think about it now, it's just part of how I relate to people, and especially women. It makes them like you. It's weird. The thing is, though, it comes in completely under radar – women just think you're a touchy feely kind of guy, and that it's normal for you so to be. This is obviously cool. But their accepting your tactile nature as totally normal is a double edged sword. For many guys, getting touchy with a chick is a sign you're coming on to them, and so it acts like a statement of interest. I can get incredibly tactile with a woman, and she still won't really know if I like her sexually, which can be a bit of a fucker, especially if I assume I'm being so obvious it's silly, and she's still blissfully living in blonde-world.

This was exactly what happened here.

“You're very tactile” said Pocahontas.
“Really?” I ask, innocently.
“Yeah, it's fine, it's just that when a guy touches me as much as you do it usually means that they're hitting on me.”
“Oh.” I say. There is a pause. I try not to giggle.
“I...” She splutters “I mean... are you? Are you hitting on me?”

There are a number of different ways in which you can answer that question in a bad way, and there are a number of different ways you can answer it in a good way. Sure, you could go cocky, and turn it round on her. Sure, you could segue into a feelings/values/emotional connection spiel. Or if you were so wont, you could play hard to get.

Or you could swing for that pitch so hard you damn near smash the bat, and put that ball into fucking orbit. After a careful process of selection lasting all of no seconds, I decided to opt for the latter option.

“I'm sorry, what?” I ask.
“Are you hitting on me?” She asks again. I look at her, incredulous.
“You're asking me if I think you're hot?” Little bit of a reframe. Hope you see why.
“Yes.”
“Are you from Mars? Have I not made that sufficiently clear with the kissing? Ok – look. I'll answer your question. Yes, I think you're HOT. You're so hot, I could fry BACON on your ASS. I would do things to you that decorum prohibits their mention here. I'll HAMMER you into the MATTRESS until you don't know who you ARE. I'll pound you in ways God has yet to invent. I would love to do that. Hell yes. Hell. Yes. Oh, c'mere you little monkey.” I kiss her again. Lots of tongues involved. “Does that answer your question?”
“Yeah.” She's all hot and bothered. “So you'd take me home?”
“YES I would. Yes. Oh yes. Ah, you're so sweet. Look at you.”

I don't close her. I could have taken her away right there, but no. She's locked in now, provided I don't do anything stupid. It's time to play in the high stakes round. A quick word about what I just did. If you get asked by a girl if you fancy her, or if you'd fuck her, or if you'd like to whatever, don't treat it like a weird test. Treat it like an open goal-mouth in the World Cup final. Hammer your shit home. Really go for it. Wax lyrical. Get visual. Hit that ball back fifty times as hard as you got it. It turns women on. A lot.

Tank Girl comes back from the bathroom.

“Hey baby.” I say.
“Hiya.” She smiles.
“We've got a confession.” I say.
“Yeah?” Asks Tank Girl.
“Yeah, we kissed when you were gone. Sorry.” Tank Girl goes to say something like 'don't worry about it,' but I cut her off. “We don't want you to feel left out so we have to both kiss you.” I lean forward and tongue her. I pull back. I'm sitting in between them.
“Now you two kiss.”

They lean together and have a passionate, full on snog. It's fucking sexy. I could smash bricks with the rock hard lump in my pants. I refrain from so doing. Then I get an idea. It's a good one.

As they're in the middle of the kiss, I say, quietly “This may be a little inappropriate, but...” Then I get Tank Girl's hand and place it on Pocahontas's boob. She starts feeling her up in an expert lesbian way. I place Pocahontas's hand on Tank Girl's boob. She starts feeling her up in a bi-curious experimental way. This is turning into a masterpiece. I feel like Da Vinci.

Ok – here's the thing. If you're trying to get something like this off the ground, you need to either be secure in yourself, or be really good at shutting the fuck up when you need to. Girls can sense if you are jealous. If I'd have interrupted that kiss, or tried to join in, I'd have ended up going home either alone or with just one of them. Probably with Pocahontas. You need to let them seduce each other, and the weird thing is that even though they were both girls, my jealousy alarms were blaring like crazy in my head. You could actually feel the sexual chemistry between these two chicks like a physical heat. It was kind of scary – for a second I thought they'd just fuck off and leave me there alone, but I held my nerve. I kept my cool through an enormous effort of will in the face of an incredibly intoxicating combination of jealousy and arousal. Eventually they broke the kiss. For a few seconds, no one spoke.

“That was hot.” I said.
“Yeah.” Said Tank Girl.
“Mmmmffnnm.” Said Pocahontas.

Now, I'm sure that we represented a bit of a spectacle. As I mentioned, this is outside in a busy street. That said, no-one had given us any shit up until this point. All of a sudden, the nastiest, skankiest junkie-smackhead of a sleazy rotting-toothed tramp-in-his-best-suit starts trying to bust in on the conversation. Every time I speak he laughs loudly, just behind me in my ear, as if to get my attention. He sidles up behind Tank Girl. I shift slightly closer and put an arm around her shoulder.

This guy might as well have been sent from heaven. He was in such appalling physical shape that there was no way in a blue moon he could ever, even with a knife, represent a physical threat to me. He was obviously drunk, and probably junked up, and skanky as fuck, but he gave me the perfect opportunity to play Lancelot and demonstrate some fucking manliness.

He asked me for a lighter, and then tried to slur some crap at the girls. In all fairness he was trying to disarm the obstacle first, so we'll have to give him some credit for that. Nonetheless, I figured the direct approach would be best.

“Excuse me mate,” I said, in a friendly tone with a hint of steel behind it, “I'm having a private chat with my friends. Do you mind?”

He muttered something incoherent and slunk away. The chicks glowed at me.

“Let's get out of here. There's a really nice pub not far from here called the Brass Monkey. It's got a Cinema and cushions and hopefully a lot less weirdos than here.” I say. We get up and leave.

“I'm really cold.” Pocahontas says. I put an arm around her shoulder as we walk toward the Brass Monkey. “Do you mind if I swing by our hostel and pick up a sweater?” “No, that's fine,” says Tank Girl with a nonchalant air that I took as a mark of a genuine player. I just shrugged. Nonchalance city.

I flag down a taxi, and we jump in. Tank Girl's in the middle. She's hot. I've got my hand on her leg. She doesn't move it.

We get out of the taxi, and split the fare. We're walking down to where their room is, and I'm experiencing this strange feeling of serenity, the kind of serenity I think you can only ever truly experience if you're a tightrope walker, or a bomb-disposal expert. The feeling that everything is fine, everything is going well, you're about to do something really awesome, but the slightest jar could fuck things up and cost you the use of your legs.

Stay frosty. Thread the needle.

As we enter the hostel, we bump into a group of about 15 people, all of these girl's friends from the hostel. I'm talking Spanish guys. Spanish guys are like Europe's most shameless and horny men, and they instantly burst into a babble of Hispanic questions, hooks and general shit to get the girls talking.

“You have to come out, we'll be at the Three Sisters later,” says one random guy.
“Excellent,” I reply, warmly but with that same hint of steel I'd noticed before with the tramp. “I know it. We'll see you there in a few minutes.”
“Good, good. See you there, man.”
“Cool.” I say, and we walk inside.

We get into the lift. This whole journey had been a big state break, especially all the fucking foreigners outside. That little bubble of comfort we'd been in at the bar and in the taxi had evaporated, but there was still a palpable air of sexual tension. I'm not worried. The game's still afoot.

We get into Tank Girl's room. Pocahontas goes to hers to get her jumper. Tank Girl starts playing shit on her Ipod. I consider how to make a move, how to escalate. I have to lead this. These girls are going to let this all slide by if I don't act. A cheesy line won't do it. I need to get this chick thinking sexually and fast. She walks over to the sink in her room to put some product in her hair. I grab her, and push her up against the door. I kiss her hard. She loves it. She smiles.

“I'll get Pocahontas.” I say.
“Cool.” She replies. It is cool.

Rinse and repeat, motherfucker. I go to Pocahontas's room, and she gets a forced tonguedown as well. I put in some extra work on this one. She's the weakest link in the chain, and she needs to be tempered in the fire of my lust for this to work.

“Come on,” I say, leading her by the hand, “let's go see Tank Girl.”
“Uh-huh. Cool.” She replies. It is cool.

They get in to the room. We're all together, and all alone. The girls start making small talk.

Then Tank Girl says...

“Did he kiss you too?”

Then Pocahontas says

“Yes, the dirty bastard.”

Then I say

“Yeah, and I'm not sorry. Let's have another three way kiss.”

Then I guide them together. Then Tank Girl kisses Pocahontas with a kind of masculine passion and intensity that I've never seen a woman display before. It's really intense. Pocahontas is pushed back with the force of it, and I catch her, kissing the side of her neck from behind. My hands wander all over her body, criss crossing with Tank Girl's.

Then I go to undo Pocahontas's bra, only to find it already undone.

Fair fucking play. Tank Girl's good.

I'm not one to kiss and tell, so I won't go too much into the specifics of what happened, except to say two things.

First off, the vibe of the threesome was in many ways like the vibe of the pickup. This was not me fucking two girls who wanted to be my sexual playthings. This was me and Tank Girl double teaming Pocahontas. I've never had a threesome with two guys – this is the only time I've done it with two girls (thus far), but the vibe was as if there was another man present. It was just that the other guy in the encounter looked exactly like Lori Petty from the film Tank Girl. This is important, perhaps the most important thing I learned from the whole encounter. If you've got two submissive girls and you want to fuck them both at once, their jealousy of each other is a minefield. If you're teaming up with a hot butch lesbian to pick up a chick, it's like a) you have a wing throughout the whole pickup, b) it's not all about you, and c) you get to see two girls naked at the same time. I winged Tank Girl, and she winged me. I wasn't possessive about her and Pocahontas, I let her have her fun. I made her feel hot. I laughed at her jokes. I engineered their first kiss. It wasn't easy though - at times, like when they touched each other's tits on the steps, and at other points a thousand times more X-rated, I had to fight down this instinctual feeling of jealousy that, mixed with arousal, threatened to paralyze me. It was like being a rabbit in headlights. It was really that intense.

So yeah, the first thing to say is this – help the dominant one pick up the submissive one and keep yourself in the loop, in control and leading the situation. Wing the dominant chick. She'll wing you.

And the second thing?

They could both deep throat.

Yeah you heard me, motherfucker. Both of them.

Heh heh heh.

Dual Induction Massage my hairy white ass.

Peace out.

Ever Yours

Jekyll