When you start out daygaming you’re usually lacking in experience when it comes to sleeping with girls. You have a point to prove to yourself. You want to make up for lost time.
The ball starts rolling as you’re out there infield racking up the approaches, then contact details, then dates, and finally lays. You want to shout these victories from the rooftops.
Perhaps you start a blog or a YouTube channel. You get more and more ambitious with your wings. The pressure’s on to outperform each other which raises both your game but creates a subtle stress. You send a “+1” text to your wing which you know will annoy him.
If a guy gets laid in a forest and doesn’t post a “+1” to his wing or Twitter, did it actually happen?
Ego grows, which you quickly realise women find attractive. This then leads to better results in your pickup which in turn fuel the ego further. Motivation for daygame morphs in other directions.
In the last couple of years the popularity of daygame has meant it’s become more and more like a competitive sport. The same trend from hippy hobby to league tables and medals happened in many sports from surfing to rock-climbing.
I recognise I’m partly responsible. A natural byproduct of writing lay reports and filming infields over many years is that others will want to do the same, only better, faster, more efficiently. It’s how any pursuit evolves and should be embraced.
The downside of making daygame competitive is that the art of pickup is sacrificed for the science. Flow is replaced with pressure. The original spirit of the subculture can be lost if we don’t remember what the original motivation for its birth was.
“The reason I climb is to get the hell away from the people down below who are talking about climbing” my friend Ed said about why he’s a mountaineer. Daygamers including myself could learn a lot from that comment.