Pickup Zest

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“Zest: a feeling of pleasure, enthusiasm, energy and interest”

A crucial element to pickup that I’ve not really hammered home before is the fact that you have to enjoy it. Too many guys I’ve taught or seen infield regard daygame as a painful experience to be dreaded. A crucial zest in their vibe is missing. The energy is flat. Girls are hyper sensitive to this and the set fails.

I understand that the first few months of learning daygame can be tough because of the approach anxiety that comes with being direct with girls you don’t know. But from my very first day going infield I deeply loved what I was doing and was (and still am) genuinely excited about flirting with hot girls. The approach anxiety sucks but the enjoyment of the process towards the goal of seduction has to make up for it.

Girls feel what you feel. She’s your mirror. If deep down you hate women or believe that what you’re doing is ‘creepy’ or parasitic then daygame’s not going to work for you. The zest has to be there. She can see it in your eyes and sense it in your micro behaviours.

If you don’t actually enjoy chatting up girls and trying to seduce them then find another hobby which you do like. Fishing, tap dancing, chess, whatever. Remember that playing any game is meant to be fun.

Last year I made a video relating to this topic on why you can’t be a carbon copy robotic daygamer, but why you need to “open with love” with that zest for what you’re doing:

Contrast Game

I’m on my way back from Japan in an airport departure lounge discussing the nuanced topic of Contrast Game – keeping a girl intrigued and on her toes by throwing her a curve ball when it comes to your personality.

The Verbal Bamboozling infield from Toronto that I mention in the podcast is here:

Temple Of Doom (Lay Report)

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I’ve travelled to some rough-and-ready locations before, including backpacking around India, Morocco, and the Egyptian Black Desert, but my recent 24 hour layover in Bangkok, Thailand, was next level filth.

Forget the dirty chaos of Delhi or the steel cold grimness of a backwards Ukrainian city. Bangkok makes the slums of Bogota look like paradise. I’ve avoided going there for years, put off by the grotty sex tourism and hot humid climate. But on my way back from Japan the best ticket I could find offered a stop over in Bangkok (plus a brief change of planes in Istanbul).

I knew that many guys on pickup forums and blogs lived or travelled to cities like Bangkok, Manila and Jakarta, singing the praises of the titty bars and Tinder lays. My plan was to see if the Shangri-La tales were true when it came to daygame there.

I landed early morning and got a taxi into the centre where I’d booked an apartment for one night. The city was shrouded in a blanket of hot grey smog and the roads clogged up with manic traffic. It reminded me of Hong Kong or Cairo just without the attractive sights.

I was staying near Siam Square One, the biggest mall in the city and ground zero for daygame. It was too hot to be outside for long. The pavements were a circus of fat old western men in shorts, socks and flip flops getting hustled by bar ladyboys and weathered hookers. Street vendors pedalled every variety of dead-animal-on-a-stick, their rickety carts dodging the moped taxis and swarms of pissed tourists. Squalid.

The giant mall was an air conditioned refuge from the madness outside. I stumbled about looking scruffy and tired after the 7 hour flight from Japan. My first couple of approaches were awful, with the Thai girls being as confused as I felt. “This is silly,” I thought to myself. “Go back to the apartment, have a shower, sleep and just go sight seeing.” 

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Stacking material – “Say What You See”

As I headed to the exit I saw a slender girl wearing a long red dress and matching shoes coming out of H&M. My senses picked up and I opened without delay, telling her she was cute and that she reminded me of the dancing girl from the opening sequence of Indiana Jones and the Temple Of Doom (children of the 80’s will know what I mean). She had no idea what I was on about, but seemed impressed by the approach. Her English was good, better than the Thai girls, as she was Vietnamese and just visiting Bangkok for a few days on a cookery course.

The bounce for a coffee was easy as she’d just arrived like me. We sat opposite each other sipping our lattes and she told me more about her life in Saigon. She was 26, single and her course was starting the following day. Her apartment was in the centre and she also planned to do some exploring like me. I moved to sit next to her so I could run the usual photo routine and spike things up with a bit of kino. She seemed shy but had a rebellious vibe about her which I liked.

It was still only 11am and I knew there was no need to rush things so I came up with the plan of going to get my camera from the apartment with her, see how compliant she was and then go to visit some temples with her before seducing her in the evening after a bit of a bar crawl. After all, I wanted to see the city and an Adventure Bubble together would just make the lay easier.

We grabbed a taxi back to my place and she came in with no hesitation. After looking around, using the bathroom and getting the camera we got in another taxi to head to the Old City. The traffic was hardly moving and the taxi driver kept throwing up his hands and laughing (the smiling nature of Thai people in the face of such filth is remarkable). “Same same!” he giggled over and over, the only English he new, in between jabbering away in Thai.

On the map on his phone he was trying to explain that with the traffic jam it was take us over an hour to get to the Grand Palace, but that he could take us down to the river from where we could catch a ten minute boat to the Old City. Was this a scam to sell us a boat trip from his cousin? Where exactly were we going? Fuck it, we said ok and he happily drove us down to the river. “Same same!” he beamed as we paid and said goodbye.

Miss Saigon was afraid of the ancient rickety looking wooden boat, telling me she couldn’t swim. Just like my old London Clipper hustle of taking girls down the Thames on a bamboozling adventure, this boat trip worked in my favour. A tiny man helped us into the boat which we had all to ourselves, and off we went up the choppy river. The waves were taller than the boat sides so he had to zig-zag his course. Miss Saigon held onto me with my arm around her, both afraid and excited. A perfect spiking of emotions. I pulled her in and kissed her briefly.

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Outside the Grand Palace we disembarked and found ourselves in a huge crowd of tourists and pilgrims, jostling to get in a long queue into the temple grounds. It was utter chaos with thousands of people (mostly Chinese tourists) pushing their way forwards in the 32°C midday heat and 100% humidity. We were drenched in sweat and the crowd was claustrophobic.

Luckily the queue moved quickly and we were in the temple grounds within half an hour. It was just as packed inside and I could see that Miss Saigon’s energy and enthusiasm was draining away. “Let me just take some pictures and we’ll get out of here” I said, opening my small shoulder bag to get my camera out.

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Immediately I spotted the open zip of the front pocket. A huge sinking feeling overwhelmed me as I realised my slender card wallet (with credit and debit card inside) was missing. For eight years I’ve carried that thin wallet in my jeans pocket, day in day out, all over the world with no issues. But in the mad scramble of taking Miss Saigon to my apartment and getting my things, I’d dropped it into the front pocket without thinking.

The oldest hustle in the book. At some point in the packed crowd I’d been pickpocketed. It was totally my fault. At least the camera was still there, my phone was in my pocket and my passport was safely hidden back in my apartment. Coincidently Miss Saigon had snapped a photo of me at the exact moment I realised the wallet was gone…

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I’d gotten some cash out that morning when I landed but it was only worth about £20. I knew straight away that that was going to have to last me the day and get me back to the airport in the morning. The main priority was to phone my bank and cancel the cards. Neither Miss Saigon or myself had a working international SIM so I said we should go back to mine where I could make a Skype phone call from my laptop.

We jumped in another cab and realised that her place was much closer to where we were than mine, so told the driver to head there to save time. Miss Saigon said she had an international phone card I could use. What an excuse to bounce a girl back to her place! The new trademarked Torero technique: get robbed and have to “phone the bank” seeding trick.

Within half an hour we were at hers, both sweaty from the temple of doom adventure. The cool air-conditioned apartment was luxurious, she obviously came from a rich family and her parents were paying for her cookery school getaway. She handed me a towel and said I could have a shower before her, as she’d take longer. I rinsed off the filth of the city with a hot shower and then emerged just in my boxers and the towel over my shoulders, as she went into the bathroom to take her shower.

I called the bank with her SIM card and cancelled the cards. No withdrawals other than mine had taken place that day thank god. Miss Saigon emerged from the bathroom in what looked like silk pyjamas and we curled up on the sofa, drained of energy after the whirlwind morning. It was still early, around 2pm. “Let’s have a siesta,” I said, “Then we’ll go to my area and eat something.”

I picked her up in my arms (she was so petite) and carried her into the bedroom. Under the duvet we hugged and kissed some more. I was waiting for the Token LMR to start and indeed it did, right on cue. I’m not so easy. I don’t know you. I’m not experienced. It is so crazy. I don’t want you to judge me. I’m not that kind of girl. Any experienced daygamer will have heard this dozens, if not hundreds, of times.

There was no rush. I took things slow. On and off. Hot and cold. Kissing and then pretend sleeping. Letting her re-engage. Putting her hand down my boxers and then going back to just hugging. Touching between her legs and then rolling over to “sleep” more. This seduction dance went on for almost an hour until she couldn’t keep up the Good Girl charade any longer and let me pull off her pyjamas to go inside her. The sex was passionate and rapid after all the horny buildup. Neither of us lasted long and we sank into real sleep soon after.

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That evening we headed to my area to experience the chaotic evening vibes of street venders, hookers and fat tourists in Chang vests, arm in arm with ladyboys. She bought some fruit to make sure I wouldn’t starve until I got to the airport, we went for some drinks and then parted ways at the metro stop as she had to prepare for her classes in the morning and I needed to sort my finances.

A totally filthy adventure in a city I’m never going back to. Despite the magical Same Day Lay experience with Miss Saigon I feel like I need to have multiple showers to cleanse myself of the squalor of Bangkok.

Why I Travel

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“Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road”

Jack Kerouac

Despite promising that I wouldn’t travel so much this year, it’s turned out to be one of the busiest in my life for various reasons. 14 countries, 32 new notches (with a month to go until the year’s out) and a fresh batch of travel stories, my head is spinning.

This blog post doesn’t aim to brag, merely to document the nomadic life of a scruffy Welsh daygamer before I forget where I’ve visited. It’s been a surreal year which has often felt totally unreal, whether that’s the jet lag or the hustle overload. Sometimes I get the Imposter Syndrome feeling like it’s not happening to me but I’m watching it all in third person.

For the first time in my life I’ve gotten access to VIP airport lounges and flown Business Class around the world. I explain how much money I make and by what methods here.  But is my aim to earn more and become filthy rich? No – the richest people I’ve met all seem bored and boring. The guys I’ve known having all the fun are the hustlers that are leading the pimp lifestyle through their heists and hard work.

Why do I travel? Because I can. Never before in human history has it been so possible to find freedom with a passport, a credit card and internet access. Nomadic travellers today live better lives than former kings, princes, pharaohs and emperors. You can book tickets on your laptop to fly around the globe, have an apartment to call home in every major city (AirBnB), a private chauffeur on speed dial who will drive you around at a moment’s notice (Uber) and the ability to date and seduce a girl of every nationality wherever you are (thanks to daygame).

My bank manager and the border control guards who stamp my passport are confused. People who follow my content write in with similar questions. Why so much travel? Why not settle down? Why not grow up and do the right thing?

I say do it now. We’re all going to die – it’s just a scheduling issue. A cliche, yes, but I live with that thought daily. I have a strong urge to have all the wild and wonderful travel adventures before I’m fifty. I don’t know why, but it’s a mental benchmark and propels me forwards.

So where has 2017 taken me? I started off by escaping the grey skies of January in the UK by flying to South America via Madrid. I released my infield video product Stealth Seduction from a sunny outdoor cafe in Colombia. Soon after I bought my first property, a small South American apartment, paying the deposit in cash. It was a totally surreal moment handing piles of money to a cartel boss-like character.

After that I flew back to London to record the Daygame 3.0 seminar, and then from there to snowy New York to see distant family and go on a snowy trip with a cousin in the Pocono Mountains. From New York I flew down to Miami and then back to South America to finalise the apartment buying with a solicitor.

After that it was on to Poland (with brief stops in Madrid and Prague) where I went on the annual ski trip with Mr A. Soon after I released my book Cold Calling on how to daygame in Russia and the Former Soviet Union, whilst getting back into daygame properly by hitting the streets hard.

I took a short trip to Hamburg in Germany to speak at a conference, and then it was back to the UK to see family and hustle my bank for a card that would give me airport lounge access. From there I flew to Tbilisi in Georgia for a daygame reconnaissance and to thaw out with the first rays of sun.

After that it was on to Ukraine where I hustled my way around numerous cities and immersed myself in daygame proper. I took a month off as the summer hit and went to Croatia to do nothing but swim and read. It was bliss.

Then the real madness began. With my wing and co-cameraman Craig we went on a 30 day around-the-world mission filming a documentary and teaching bootcamps. We started in London, then flew west to New York City, Los Angeles, Sydney and Singapore before finishing in Munich, Germany. I also squeezed in a side trip from Singapore to visit Hong Kong for 24 hours. The whole tour was a total mind fuck – extreme jet lag, hangovers, fatigue and notch burnout.

There were so many surreal moments. Floating around the pool on a lilo in Hollywood thinking how bizarre it all was. Taking my first Business Class flight from LA to Sydney and sleeping like a baby. Imposter Syndrome Level 100 – would the cabin crew tap me on the shoulder and say that I wasn’t entitled to be there?

From Munich I found a budget flight direct to Cardiff. Completing the around-the-world mission by landing back in my home city was a proud moment, again utterly surreal. I didn’t know what timezone I was in, what season it was, what I was going to do next…

So I took a ‘holiday.’ An endless source of amusement amongst family and friends that I needed a break after all the travelling. I went with a girl to Nice in the South of France for an idyllic Riviera retreat of beaches, swimming and lazing about. From there I went to the Polish version of the Lake District where I slept in the forest with a girl and messed about on boats. It was magical (except for the mosquitoes).

Then it was back to South America for more exploring and to meet up in Colombia with a fellow daygamer, before flying back to Europe and a drone adventure in the Slovenian Alps just as Autumn arrived. After that it was back to full on Street Hustling in Russia before a short trip to Paris and then a brief stop back in the UK.

Next it was a long ass flight to Japan for my annual pilgrimage and then back to Britain via Thailand and Istanbul, which takes us up to today.

What a mental year, and there’s still over a month of 2017 to go. If you told me as a spotty shy teenager that this was going to be my life when I was in my late 30’s then I’d never have believed you for a second. As a kid I fantasised about being a mixture of Indiana Jones and James Bond, daydreaming about escaping South Wales and later my life as a school teacher. I still can’t quite process all the things that have happened to me since discovering daygame eight years ago, but this year the bizarreness of the life I’m now living has dawned on me like never before.

Everything ahead. The road winds on…

Peacocking

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Boss Level 

Peacocking is one of the most misunderstood and misquoted concepts in pickup. People immediately think of outlandish costumes, hats and Johnny Depp-level jewellery worn in nightclubs to get girls to notice you.

In reality, everything you wear is a subconscious effort to impress potential mates. Every hair style you choose, every pair of shoes you wear, every bag you carry. It’s a basic biological drive common to all organisms, from the smallest of shading details to the outlandish displays of a peacock’s tail.

Here’s where the main misunderstanding occurs. It’s not the items or ornamentation themselves that lead to the (perceived) raise in SMV. It’s the fact that the organism can withstand the shit tests that come with the display. The peacock’s tail physiologically hinders it in terms of day to day living, but by being able to carry it off (quite literally) it is extremely attractive sexually to potential partners.

So it’s not the cowboy hat or the leather trousers that might get you the girl. It’s the way you show you can handle the ‘weight’ of the societal judgement that comes with standing out. A guy without the congruency and confidence to back it up will be slammed for wearing such attire, whereas the rock star will be celebrated.

In next week’s podcast I’ll talk about the extra items I wear to boost my daygame and dating, from my tattoos and rings to my well-worn boots and scruffy jackets.

Model Moaning (Lay Report)

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I approached this girl on my third day of number farming in Japan. 23 years old, hot, she was dressed in grungy denim with a Nirvana t-shirt and told me she was a fashion model, working in Japan, Korea, France and Italy. The joke between us was that I was Harry Potter who’d magically jumped in front of her.

After we exchanged details on Line (the Asian WhatsApp) I sent her the Potter GIF. Because she seemed on with her reply I sent her a date request that evening.

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She turned down the date request so I rolled off for 4 days as I had many other leads I was pinging plus I was also travelling between different Japanese cities. I gave her the ultimatum text of telling her I was leaving and that I wanted to see her before. Normally this is not good strategy but when you’re against the clock on a daygame trip you can do it as a last-ditch attempt to resurrect some flagging leads.

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When I realised she was away for fashion work in Korea I thought that it was a dead end so I didn’t bother following up. I’d already gotten two notches on the trip by this point so I wasn’t that fussed. But yesterday evening she suddenly sprung to life…

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My texting was blunt. I didn’t want to waste any more investment. So I just proposed a time and place, which she pushed back 90 minutes (a good sign as the later the better for first date sex possibilities.) A small frame concession is ok if it’s losing the battle to win the war.

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Tonight was my last night of the trip, I’d already got my notches, so I turned up for the date with nothing to lose. She was there on time, wearing a leather corset type thing over a tight black top, black boots but tight jeans rather than a skirt. Straight away she said she didn’t want to drink alcohol which threw me off balance a bit.

As usual in Japan, her English was terrible. We used Google Translate on our phones for 90% of the communication. I walked her to a dark billiards bar I’d already chosen halfway between the meeting point and my apartment where we sat on a couch. She was standoffish and secretive, sipping her coffee while I had my beer. I got her to show me some non-modelling photos and I showed her some of my travelling pictures.

Verbal escalation was lost in translation, but I noticed that despite her seeming closed and shy, when I’d pull her in momentarily (the “Floppy Test”) she didn’t object, and when I got her to warm up my cold hands in hers she was more than willing to keep them there.

From the first venue we walked the short distance to outside my apartment. I had planned a second venue down the street (a cocktail bar) but my senses told me just to try and bounce her straight back. In Japan it’s been common for the girls I’ve dated to say yes to the bounce home without much of a pretext (even though the Token LMR begins later up in your apartment).

Inside we took off our shoes, I made some tea and she put on some Justin Bieber on my laptop (lose the battle to win the war!). Slowly I ramped up the kino from an arm around her to hugging, but she didn’t want to kiss and kept saying I was a “bad boy,” a “crazy boy” and she was a “good girl.” I went to the bathroom to give her space.

She was still sitting on the sofa smiling when I came back, so I moved the laptop to the bed opposite the sofa (it’s a typically tiny Japanese apartment) and beckoned her over. She just stood by the wall like a child having a pretend tantrum, her arms folded and a mock sad face. I got her to break her Token LMR strop by singing along badly to Bieber and doing the worst impression of him which she giggled to.

We hugged standing up, then I picked her up and dropped her onto the bed. She still wouldn’t kiss, saying over and over that I was a bad boy but at the same time hugging and grinding on me. This went on for ten minutes during which time I wasn’t sure which way it was going to go. “You walk me to train station” she asked meekly?

I rolled off. IOD for an IOD. I said I’d walk her back after I finished my tea. We sat on the sofa once again and she went back to her token tantrum, arms folded. It was clear she could go at any time but I could sense she didn’t really want to, hoping I would call her bluff. More hugging, a light kiss, then back to the bed.

Grinding, wandering hands, more moaning in Japanese, her hand down my jeans, me pulling hers off, then wild sex with almost all our clothes on. The weird and wonderful sex noises Japanese girls make are something else. It was a great smash.

Out of the three lays of the trip she was my favourite not just because of her model hotness (and rare height for a Japanese girl) but because she’d seemed like such a weak-maybe girl and I was proud of my reading of the micro signals. Spotting the tiny clues and calibrating to them can give almost as much satisfaction as the sex itself.

Goodbye Japan, it’s been emotional 😉

Street Kino

Too many daygamers are like static robots, keeping things social and stiff (in a bad way). In this short video I highlight some simple ways to get some street kino (touch) going which makes things playful and adds a sexual spark.

  • Level 1: Incidental – light touches here and there as you make a point
  • Level 2: Maradona Move – hold her hand and pull her in to close the distance
  • Level 3: Games – high fives, palms, rings, muscles, feet size etc

 

For details of all these techniques watch my free Street Hustle video series on Youtube.