I’m not a big fan of approaching large groups of four or more people, whether they’re only girls or mixed with guys. I honestly can’t think of a harder way to pick up a girl. When it comes to big groups I wait until the girl I like isolates herself before making a move.

Mystery invented “group theory” and it was the foundation of his game, but when you look at his appearance and pickup style it’s obvious why he was such a fan of it: he looks like a wizard and even performs wizardry. Of course he’s going to open the group, and now with his fame I’m sure it’s even easier. But for an average guy like myself who doesn’t know magic tricks and leaves the tarot cards at home, it’s smarter and more efficient to wait.

Three weeks ago I was at the champagne bar with my Danish roommate. It was a Wednesday so there weren’t many people, and the girls who showed up were older and on the thickie side.

We’re drinking and I noticed a cute petite girl with five other people at a table (three guys and two girls). They were busy talking amongst themselves and having a good time, and to me it was obvious they were all friends. I could go up to them with some fun opener, but odds are I’d be there for three minutes and then they’d politely tell me to have a nice life. I calculated that the odds of extracting her from the group was 11.4%. So I waited instead because it was just a matter of time until she had to stop by the bar, use the bathroom, or go outside for a smoke.

She went outside for a smoke. I looked at my roommate and told him to give me his phone since I left mine at home. I went outside and pretended to make a call. With the phone to my ear I looked over to my right and noticed she was standing ten feet away smoking alone. I took the phone down from my ear, entered 0-6-1-4-1-9-7-9-#-CLR, and then took a few steps towards her.

“Excuse me do you know what time this bar closes?” I said in English. I followed up by asking what other places were good that night, an admittingly boring approach but it matched the sedate environment of the bar. She was helpful and I noticed her accent definitely wasn’t Brazilian.

“Your accent is different—I don’t think you’re a B girl.”

“No I’m from Argentina.”

We talked for at least fifteen minutes outside, well after her cigarette was done. She really dug the fact that I traveled through her country and we went into the differences between various cultures. To introduce some tension into the interaction I joked that Argentines were snobs who think they’re Italian. She responded by saying she was half-Italian. Eventually she invited me to sit at her table and I chatted with her friends, mostly ignoring her, until they dropped out one by one The night ended with me and my roommate walking her home where numbers were exchanged (I already tried to get her to another bar but she had to wake up early).

Now I’m not saying that you can’t pull from large groups, but to do well at it you’ll have to be a clown, at least initially. But no matter how great your jokes are or how accurate your handwriting analysis is, it’s terribly unlikely that you’ll be able to talk to your girl without having her ugly friends be all up in the conversation.

Approaching large groups is too much of a roundabout way to pulling one girl. It’s a better strategy to wait until that girl isolates herself, which is what you would have do to anyway. Plus she’ll be much more open to talking to you without her judgmental, obese, and cockblocking friends spying on the conversation. Plus as long as she stays in her group it’s doubtful that other guys will make an attempt, so it keeps her safe from other cocks until you’re ready.

If by the end of the night you’re ready to go and she’s still nestled in her group, then go ahead and make an attempt, but if you can wait, then wait.

Usually if I find that something works I repeat it many times to see if it keeps working, and if it does then I can start developing an optimal game. With Western girls I find that cockiness mixed with humor and teasing will be the most consistent means to have sex with a large number of them. I can roll up into Anycity USA, make a couple witty sarcastic jokes, and have the girl asking me personal questions. I can meet an Australian girl in a hostel, ask what’s wrong with her hair, and have her asking about my plans later in the night. I can make oogly eyes with a white South African girl in a bar, tell her I’m a farmer, and get a fun back-and-forth going. Unfortunately this type of game does not work on Brazilian girls.

By my estimates I’ve probably interacted with 100-150 Brazilian girls in both Brazil and the United States, and my hook up percentage with them is about a third of what I can get with American girls. I tried many angles, like being nice, being direct, being mean, being aggressive, being aloof, being a comedian, being dark and disturbed, etc. and absolutely nothing has worked with any type of consistency that I can share with you. Every time I bang a B girl I feel like luck played a large role.

A big difference is that in America girls will indulge you even if they don’t like you off the bat. This is how you can turn the tide with strong game. But in Brazil the girls don’t give you the chance if they’re not into your look and vibe, which means less opportunity to use classic game to build attraction. If it’s not there almost immediately you’re pretty much done. On one hand you save time but on the other how can you use brainpower and skill to get what you want?

So then I worked backwards on the set of hooks ups I’ve already had. Like a statistician I poured over the data to see if anything stood out at me. I’m also in touch with a dozen or so guys who’ve banged Brazilians and have their experience in the back of my mind as well. From this analysis there was a very clear pattern of B girls who got banged by a gringo…

They already like Westerners. In particular they like the English language and Western culture. They watch American movies and listen to American music. They go to Starbucks and Irish pubs. They have either visited or lived in a Western country. They’re at least 24-years-old.

Every Brazilian girl I’ve slept with has spoken at least passable English, and they enjoyed practicing.

Every Brazilian girl I’ve slept with has put out strong interest within two minutes of talking to them.

Every Brazilian girl I’ve slept with has mentioned in passing other gringo “friends,” a German guy here, an English girl there. I’m never the first gringo they got to know. Two girls I used to see are currently dating a gringo.

Every Brazilian girl I’ve slept with has complained about Brazilian men to some degree. They are looking for something different.

Every Brazilian girl I’ve slept with has been at least 24-years-old. While I have kissed B girls as young as 18, they seem to be more about kissing than fucking. Pursuing a young B girl is generally a waste of time.

I know two guys who have banged a quality B girl who spoke no English and didn’t fit the model above, but neither of them could sustain the relationship and make it to bang number three. I think these girls did it more for the novelty of it, not because they genuinely liked gringos.

During my six months in Colombia, I was the first gringo for most of the girls I slept with. For two of the girls I was the first gringo they had ever met, something that has never been the case with Brazilian girls. There I found that hanging out in a place with a lot of gringos generally wasn’t a good idea as it killed my exotic status.

In Brazil (at least for Rio) that seems to be the opposite. I actually bomb when I’m in a place that has no gringos, because the girls probably don’t care for them. Girls in Brazil know which bars and clubs have gringos, and if they like going there then guess what—they like gringos and it will be easier for you.

If you want to bang a Brazilian in Rio, go to the spots that have gringos first. Being the only gringo in the club is great if you like standing out, but it won’t automatically be easier.

There is this one club I do well at. Until recently do you know what I would tell other guys when describing the place? “Yeah music is alright but it has a lot of gringos… sucks.” It could be 20% gringos at times! I didn’t realize that my complaint was helping me get consistent results there.

I’ve been to another club four times. There are maybe 2% gringos at the most. I’ve never hooked up there—not even gotten a measly number—even though it’s in a poorer part of town. Here I get blown out most of the time. Girls simply don’t give a shit.

There’s a guy I knew in Rio who spoke very good Portuguese, something you’d think would increase his chances of banging a lot of Brazilians, but it hasn’t done anything of the sort because his ability is merely driving him to girls who don’t already like gringos. He has a ton of conversations in Portuguese that go absolutely nowhere. His language skill merely delays the inevitable rejection.

So I have no idea how to bang a Brazilian girl who doesn’t speak English or who doesn’t already come pre-programmed liking gringos. Your guess is as good as mine. But now when I approach a girl, I ditch after a minute if she’s under 24 and she doesn’t try to say a few words in English. Otherwise I simply run cool guy game, tell her my story, crack a couple jokes, tease her very gently, and sit back as she’ll do most of the work for me. With Western girls I definitely work at building attraction and it may be several minutes in until I “hook” her, but with Brazilian girls if attraction isn’t there almost immediately then nothing will happen.

Game in Brazil is more venue selection, persistence, and attractiveness than what you already think of as game. The best advice I can give you before coming to Rio is to hit the gym hard and look your best. Then once down here approach daily.

I really wish I could give you a complete strategy, and maybe I can some day, but until then don’t waste your time gaming Brazilians who are skeptical of gringos.

POSTSCRIPT: Since originally writing this I’ve banged a B girl using only Portuguese. She said I was her first gringo. I believe it was for the novelty because I couldn’t get to the third bang.

I’d like to add two new objective metrics to the ones we already have, which are the notch, the cost per notch, the true cost per notch, and the flag. Let’s quickly review those existing metrics.

The notch has existed since the dawn of time and is when a man keep tracks of how many vaginas he has penetrated. It’s serves as a quick glance at your game.

The cost per notch (CPN) is when you divide your total dating expenses with the number of girls in that same time period. Here we don’t count the cost of picking up like going to the bar and drinking with friends, but we do count dates with girls you took out but didn’t eventually bang. You’re running weak ass game if your CPN is over $300, and need to push for more one night stands. There was a stretch of six months living in my dad’s basement when I got it down to $40.

If you make the assumption that a man’s existence is solely to fuck and procreate, which I accept, then all of his expenses should count towards notch attainment. This is called the true cost per notch (tCPN). Take your earnings for the year, substract it by how much you saved, then divide the rest by your notches for that year. A stellar true cost per notch is under $2,500. For a man who takes home $35,000 a year after taxes, that’s 14 notches. I have an very low tCPN because my income is also low. I’m on the calorie restriction diet of game.

Finally there’s the flag, which is a notch from a girl born in a specific country. I argue that flags show more skill than the mere notch, but not all flags are created equal. A captured Peruvian flag counts less than a flag from Spain or Italy, for example. An American flag has no value because banging an American girl is too easy compared to girls from other countries.

Note that a guy can have a lot of notches, low cost per notch, and a lot of flags but still bang monsters. These don’t account for quality, and are therefore used for shits and giggles, self motivation, and friendly competition among friends. In other words don’t take these too seriously and always try to fuck hotter girls each year. That said I’d now like to introduce two new metrics:

The Superflag. This is a virgin flag, meaning you banged a virgin from a specific country. Most guys have a virgin flag from their own country, but getting it in another country is incredibly challenging, and nearly impossible while traveling (you need to live abroad to pull this insurmountable feat).

I came up with this metric after I made sweet love to a teenage Colombian virgin.

The Language Notch. This is banging a girl from macking in a foreign language. It’s the hardest metric to attain because you need to learn a new language and then adapt your game to it.

Sometimes the hardest part of getting a language notch is finding a girl who doesn’t speak English, as this was my problem in Rio until I get lucky and met a girl from the south. After getting the three easiest language notches (English, Portuguese, and Spanish), I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to get more. I’d like to have five before I die, so perhaps one more romance language like Italian and then something impossible like Russian where letters are replaced by alien-like symbols.

I’m going to take a hard stance on the language notch. I can’t grant you one if you pick a poor girl from the slums and use mostly sign language to communicate and get the bang. It’s yours only if you build attraction in her language, meaning complete sentences (e.g. making her laugh with an intelligent joke, warming her heart with a story, etc.). If you banged her with your laptop opened to Google Translate a few feet away, I’m sorry but I can’t sign off on that.

One great thing about language notches is that it improves your skill all around because you master the non-verbal aspects of game like body language and tonality, and you’re called upon to get more done while saying less. It’s a very reliable indicator of your skill, so much so that if you have at least three langauge notches I ask that you get in touch with me so I can pick your brain a little.

A lot of haters criticize the shallow lifestyle of banging a lot of women, but mostly because of game I speak three languages, and a ton of other guys are learning languages as well to get with foreign women. It’s ironic that many guys into game are ten times more cultured and worldly than their feminist cunt haters whose only skill is paper pushing.

Alright to review, here’s our collection of objective metrics:

• Notch
• Cost Per Notch
• True Cost Per Notch
• Flag
• Superflag
• Language Notch

In the end the game should be fun, and that’s what these metrics are.

PREVIOUSLY: INTRODUCTION TO BUDDHISM

For my second trip to South America I put 30 books in a duffel bag. One of them was The Essential Epicurus, a collection of works by the Greek philosopher. From Epicurus.net:

Epicurus (341–270 B.C.) founded one of the major philosophies of ancient Greece, helping to lay the intellectual foundations for modern science and for secular individualism. Many aspects of his thought are still highly relevant some twenty-three centuries after they were first taught in his school in Athens, called “the Garden.”

Epicurus’s philosophy combines a physics based on an atomistic materialism with a rational hedonistic ethics that emphasizes moderation of desires and cultivation of friendships. His world-view is an optimistic one that stresses that philosophy can liberate one from fears of death and the supernatural, and can teach us how to find happiness in almost any situation. His practical insights into human psychology, as well as his science-friendly world-view, gives Epicureanism great contemporary significance as well as a venerable role in the intellectual development of Western Civilization.

While reading the book I’ll admit that I dozed off while going through his explanations on clouds…

Clouds may be produced and take shape as the result of the compression of air by the forcing together of winds and as the result of the interlacing of atoms that grip one another and are suitable to bringing about this result…

earthquakes…

Earthquakes may result both from the imprisonment of wind inside the earth, and from the earth’s shifting in small masses and its constant movement, which produces the quaking.

and falling stars…

What are called falling stars may be produced partly by the stars’ rubbing against each other and by the falling out of their fragments where a blast of wind occurs…

But I stuck in there and was rewarded in the end was very nice quotes that do provide a blueprint for living. Here are my favorites:

The man who alleges that he is not yet ready for philosophy or that the time for it has passed him by, is like the man who says that he is either too young or too old for happiness.

For there is nothing dreadful in life for the man who has truly comprehended that there is nothing terrible in not living.

Becoming accustomed, therefore, to simple and not luxurious fare is productive of health and makes humankind resolved to perform the necessary business of life.

[The wise man] thinks that it is preferable to remain prudent and suffer ill fortune than to enjoy good luck while acting foolishly.

No pleasure is evil in itself; but the means of obtaining some pleasures bring in theire wake troubles many times greater than the pleasures.

If every pleasure were [maximized] and existed for a long time throughout the entire organism of its most important parts, pleasures would never differ from one another.

Of all the things that wisdom provides for living one’s entire life in happiness, the greatest by far is the possession of friendship.

We do not need the help of our friends so much as the confidence that our friends will help us.

Speaking frankly, I would prefer, when discoursing on nature, to utter useful things, like oracles, to humankind, even if no one should understand them, than to agree with popular opinion and enjoy the constant accolades offered by the crowd.

Some men spend their whole life furnishing for themselves the things proper to life without relaizing that at our birth each of us was poured a mortal brew to drink.

The voice of the flesh cries, “Keep me from hunger, thirst, and cold!” The man who has these sureties and who expects he always will would rival even Zeus for happiness.

The wise man who has accustomed himself to the bare necessities knows how to give rather than to receive. So great is the treasure house of self-sufficiency he has discovered.

There is also a limit to frugality. The man unable to consider this suffers a similar end as the man who indulges in excess.

You ought to do nothing in your life that will make you afraid if it becomes known to your neighbor.

The following method of inquiry must be applied to every desire: What will happen to me if what I long for is accomplished? What will happen if it is not accomplished?

If the gods listened to the prayer of men, all human-kind would quickly perish since they constantly pray for many evils to befall one another.

No fool is satisfied with what he has, but instead grieves for what he does not possess.

He who is not satisfied with a little, is satisfied with nothing.

Know that what passes for good and evil among the throng if ephermeral, and that wisdom shares nothing in common with fortune.

Many men who acquire wealth do not find deliverance from evils but an exchange of their present evils for greater ones.

My take on his philosophy: peace of mind and confidence can only come from knowledge based on facts, and it’s the prudent application of knowledge that leads to a happy, social life where being poor but wise is preferable to being rich and lucky.

You can read his works for free at Epicurus.net.

Props to you if you can steal my drink without me noticing. My mind must’ve been elsewhere to not give a damn about the product of my hard labor. But if I catch you stealing my drink, and you double down, then we have a problem.

There is a bar in Rio called Ovelha Negra (Black Sheep) that doesn’t sell beer, wine, or spirits—just champagne. It was embarrassing for my Danish roommate when we went the first time and he asked for Skol, a cheap Brazilian beer you can get for $1.50 on the street. He realized the type of establishment he was at and quickly adjusted, adopting more of a nouveu rich accent that would have the King of Denmark proud.

The bar has only one room in the shape of a long rectangle. There are little tables on one side and then a big table in the middle where most of the action happens. Starting at 6pm the place packs with the professional happy hour crowd. Almost everyone speaks English and $1,000 jailbroken iPhones make constant appearances.

It can be challenging to pickup here because everyone is in large groups, but really it’s not because those guys with the girls are usually coworkers. Girls are looking to flirt, and Danish and I have done well enough that we’ve become regulars. The young bartender with the moppy haircut greets us with a thumbs up whenever we come in but I keep forgetting his name. I think it’s Thiago.

It was so packed one night that we ordered two bottles to ride out until closing. A lot of people go to a place like this and get the second cheapest bottle of champagne, or at least something that’s not the absolute cheapest, but we always get the cheapest (R$ 37). We don’t know the difference between a champagne and sparkling cider and we’re not going to pretend like we do. Is it making us burp? Are we feeling tipsy? Garçon this is great champagne!

My roommate likes to start his approaches with a cigarette angle. If we’re outside he asks for a light and if we’re inside he asks to bum a cigarette. He did this on one girl and she walked out with him to find smokes from a street vendor, leaving me with the bucket of two open champagne bottles. By now we had finished one and was about to get started on the other. As usual the bartender put a salt solution in our bucket, ensuring the second would be near freezing temperature when we were ready for it.

The bucket was on the communal table and I stood in front of it behind a high bar chair. To my right was a girl that looked cute from the back—I was working on getting facial confirmation—and to her right was an obviously drunk girl in a white dress. Sitting next to her was a guy petting her back, her boyfriend maybe, or at least trying to be for the night. Across the table were three more of their friends.

I’m standing there with my champagne glass, trying to act cool, when I see the drunk girl in the white dress reach over and grab the neck of our full bottle. Good thing I was watching it, I thought.

“No no no excuse me that’s our bottle.” I said it very loud, almost shouting, because I know how drunk people can be hard of hearing when it comes to things that hint at possibly limiting their alcohol intake. My face had not a hint of humor or generosity or kindness or anything to suggest I wasn’t serious. I was a father scolding his little girl.

The bottle was now out of the bucket, dripping with icy water as it very slowly traveled past the girl next to me and directly in front of white dress. It approached her glass. There was no time to think about specific actions. No time to devise a battle plan. The autopilot light in the cockpit burns bright orange and your belief system take over.

“Hey hey no, that’s mine and I’m sorry but you can’t have any.”

From the side of her face I could see a quick frown, but she kept going. Her right hand began tilting the bottle towards her glass. She looked at me, squinted her eyes, and then made the “just a little bit” sign with her left hand. She didn’t care what I said and was going to take whatever she wanted.

Slow motion. I’m moving. The weight of my body shifts to my left foot and then I take a big step with my right. I’m next to her friend now, touching the side of her body. My hand shoots like a rocket from my hip. It’s flying through the air across the table. I’m leaning. The back of my right shoulder hits the chin of the girl next to me. She scrunches her face and flinches backwards. White dress is beginning to pour, an entitled, upper-class smirk on her face. I make contact with the neck of the bottle. My hand muscles tighten. Death grip. My knuckles are white. I tilt it upwards. I’ve stopped breathing. Now I’m snatching and pulling. Pulling away. It’s raining champagne like New Years on my arm, on the drunk girl, on the girl who got sidearmed, on the guy who wants to get laid. Cheap champagne on the dark wood table, on professional work clothes. I’m pulling still, and bring it safely back to my side. I step back. Less than a second.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING YOU DON’T JUST STEAL SOMEONE’S FUCKING BOTTLE LIKE THAT WITHOUT ASKING WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE I DON’T BELIEVE THIS SHIT!”

I’m flailing my left arm in the air like an excited monkey. My right hand is still squeezing on tight to the cheap bottle of champagne. My arm and hand is wet and cold. Then silence.

White dress is beginning to cry. Her five friends are staring at me with their mouths gaped open. Half of the bar is looking at me. I’m the bad guy, the arrogant, angry gringo who doesn’t know the capitals of European countries and comes to Brazil only to bang prostitutes and do cheap drugs.

Fuck you all I don’t care what you think.

All her friends gave me the “calm down” sign, apologizing. I pursed my lips and nodded my head up and down. I took a deep breath then put the champagne bottle back in the ice bucket.

I looked at her glass. Only a few drops made it in.

A tough question is when people ask me why I’m in South America. The answer I feel most comfortable with is a three page manifesto, but is it really that complicated?

While the South American way of life in different than in America, my way of life doesn’t change much from country to country…

11am: Rise and shine
2pm: Coffee shop to sit in front of laptop for several hours
7pm: Gym, grocery store visit, or various chores
9pm: Cook dinner then jerk around on internet, watch movies, or go out

This is the routine that keeps me productive and happy no matter where I’m at. It’s not glamorous but it fits me well, and only a couple parts of it will change in foreign countries. They are:

1. Language. Obviously there are communication issues but to me that’s a fun challenge that exercises my brain. Neutral effect.

2. Money. I experience considerable cost savings by living in South America where I have to work much less for a lifestyle of leisure and chasing tail. Positive effect.

3. Family. Our lives are finite and every month I don’t spend with them is another month that is basically gone forever, so that does bother me a bit. Negative effect.

4. Coffee shops. In South America you can’t really spend four hours after only buying a cup of tea. So I look for corporate places like McCafe and Starbucks where the staff doesn’t care. (In Rio the mall in Leblon has comfortable sofas with free internet.) Neutral effect.

5. Grocery stores. They do not have the incredible selection that American stores have. The grocery store nearest me doesn’t have broccoli, cauliflower, lemons, and any kind of berry, for example. Negative effect, but honestly my life isn’t too different if I can’t eat broccoli and strawberries.

6. Going out. The point of going out is to bond with other guys, drink, and get laid. The guys I meet here are more like short-term buddies than the deeper friendships I have at home; the alcohol is more substandard (caipirinha with turpentine cachaça anyone?); and of course the girls are from a different planet.

Is my life different if I’m actively spending time with a South American girl that treats me like a king and is hyper-feminized? Yes, I believe so.

Recently I was at a bar with my Danish roommate and there were three Australian girls around us getting aggressively gamed by four Brazilian guys. During that time they kept looking over. I had a hunch that they wanted us to “save” them.

Next thing we know the girls moved right beside us to where one of them was brushing against my arm.

“Looks like you guys have a fan club,” I said, without any emotion.

“Oh my god these guys won’t leave us alone!”

“Well if you keep talking to them then they’re going to think you like them.” I found it hard to believe that they didn’t understand this simple concept.

“Can you help rid of them for us?”

“You seem like big girls I think you can do it.”

Then the other one looked at me and said, “Don’t be such a big jerk!”

This very brief exchange showed issues that I don’t experience with South American women. First, they’re attention whores that are stringing along other guys just for kicks. Fights between horny drunk guys usually start because of girls like these. Second, they’re testing me to see if I’ll save them within only 15 seconds of talking to them. And third, they’re displaying a snappy attitude that is more suited for debating than romance. Don’t test me or ask me for premature favors and then get an attitude when I don’t bend over backwards for you. These are things I don’t want to deal with.

I looked at the most aggressive of the Brazilian guys and said, “Ela gosta de você… MUITO” while pointing to the girl who told me to stop being a jerk. That roughly means, “She likes you… A LOT.” Sure enough his eyes opened wide and he pursued with renewed vigor that made me quite pleased.

When I get homesick all I have to do are two things.

The first is open my budget spreadsheet to see how much money I’m not spending. The second is talk to Western women. And I’m not kidding—when I get homesick I just hit on gringas at the bar. I zero in on their pasty, flawed skin, their masculine attitudes, their slovenly appearance, their self-entitlement, and I swear to god I’m energized for a month or two before homesick thoughts cross my mind again.

I dislike American women and I can’t live very comfortably Stateside working only 2-3 hours a day. Therefore I’m in South America because of money and women.

Today marks exactly five years since I launched DCBachelor.com (I did have a blog before that but it was more of a little diary for friends than the game resource it morphed into starting with DCB). Let’s take a trip down memory lane and then talk about the future. I’ve also included a photo from each year to document my metamorphosis.

FIRST YEAR

Two early posts that started getting me attention were whores vs conservative girls and how to get free drinks at Starbucks. By the third month of operation I already had multiple haters and the more I hated on others, the more I got hated on. Go figure.

The blog started taking direction with these posts:

• Brooke Shields Part 1, Part 2
• Women Dating Tips
• American Women Vs European Women (my most commented post)
• You Will Die Alone
• Why Mediocre Women Desire Hot Men
• Most Women Are Only Suitable For One Night Stands
• Bad Game Vs Good Game
• Stop Wearing Flip Flops

At the time there were fewer posts about game than recaps of happy hours and club nights.

The big drama of the year was my epic blog war with “The Senator,” which is nicely documented on this wiki page. Upon winning I took a triumphant victory lap. He has not been seen on the internet since.

The blog wars of yesteryear were far more artfully done and went for emotional impact instead of merely posting private information. Today any slackjawed retard with an internet connection can post someone’s address, but it takes actual brains to force someone’s blog offline with taunts that bring about immense shame and embarrassment. In fact if you have to resort to posting someone’s private information you’ve already lost, because in the end all you’re doing is… posting information.

My favorite post of the year would be Glengarry Glen Ross remix, which was to serve as something you can read before going out. My April Fools gag was getting fired from work.

SECOND YEAR

The blog began to affect my dating life as more girls found out about it. It’s also this time that I started having my first blog groupies (giddy).

I had some guest posters: Sally the intern, Dasha the intern, Chaco, and Miss Metropolis, who you may know as DC nightlife queen Kelly Ann Collins. The hate on them was often vicious.

My rocky relationship towards American women continued with posts like why are you out, diamonds, if I was a girl, and two and out. I even sold t-shirts that read “I Pump And Dump.”

My favorite game posts were the tight game week series, status, and womanly advice.

Besides that I took a blow up doll to the beach and Dupont Circle, made women cry with this post, went to Spain, started thinking about moving abroad with discussion on international women, was saddened by someone’s death, started the player or poseur series, introduced the cost per notch, moved the domain to RooshV.com, and started a new blog called Furball Approved where I’d post funny videos that were reviewed in the voice of my cat. It only lasted a few weeks.

My two favorite posts of the year were my wisdom teeth story and my rules of life. For April Fools I tried to convince you that I was gay.

I had my full name and job posted on the blog of a gay man, who begged his readers to contact human resources. But his information was dated and he ended up posting the place I worked at several months prior. His attempts to destroy me failed, obviously, and I think it all stemmed from the fact that I rebuffed his advances at a blogger happy hour. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

His/her blog was dead last time I checked.

THIRD YEAR

Blogging continued to affect my sex life while I learned that women who showed affection made me happier. I bashed Americans, introduced the flag metric, started learning Spanish, and got tired of women who think they understand women better than men.

Three big events this year: I quit the corporate grind, went to South America, and released Bang. There weren’t many game posts because of the energy that went into the book, but I do like seven ways to improve your game, hung up on the opener, and playful vibe.

My experience in South America led to these popular posts:

• Thoughts
• Guiding Principle Of Male-Female Relations
• 10 Common Travel Scams
• School Of Argentine Girls
• Brazilian, Argentine, and American girls
• Introduction To Brazilian Girls

That last one is the most visited post on the blog right now.

South America beat me up, I came home, and so began the healing process.

While it was a very exciting year for me, it was the worst year for my blog. The content wasn’t that great and I alienated my core audience by writing more about travel than game (it’s no suprise that the year saw the blog’s lowest traffic). I don’t have a favorite post and even my April Fools gag was weak (starting a new blog called Puppy Dogs & Ice Cream).

After this third year I realized that even if I win the Nobel Prize in Physics I’m still expected to mostly write about game. I’ve accepted that. You know there’s things you want to do (have a video blog starring a cat) and then there’s things that you’re good at.

FOURTH YEAR

Back at home I was lost all love for D.C. and realized I wasn’t going to meet the perfect woman, though their easiness did keep me heavily in the game for the next year.

I gave women advice, continued to piss people off (I even detailed the strategy of my haters), was more careful about where I deposited my seed, stopped caring about if a girl orgasms or not, bashed Americans and feminists, shared a masturbation strategy, was a hot girl for a night, stopped taking showers, gave my friend parenting tips, became seriously uninspired with American girls, and got so enraged with cockblocking that I offered a way to stop it for good.

Also I made a travel blog (that is sort of dead at the moment), went to Las Vegas with Virgle Kent, opened the forum (which has become pretty active), put out my philosophy on life, wrote a short story, bartended, made a few videos, put a lot of work into my newsletters, and started teaching workshops on day game.

My favorite game post from the year is how to pick up girls for real, though overall I’d have to go with the perfect woman post. The April Fools gag was moving to Rio for a girl.

This year I considered taking a lengthy break from blogging, but it was more about dissatisfaction with where I was in life at the moment than a dislike towards writing.

FIFTH YEAR

BOOM! KABLAM!

At the risk of letting my ego talk, I think this last year was my best yet. My thinking was clear and my experiences rich, making it somewhat easy to consistently put out good content. I like so many posts that I’m not sure where to start.

I advised you not to date girls who like poetry (e.g Poetry Girl), talked about girls who faked about knowing my blog, dropped some more Argentine girl knowledge, wrote a letter to Virgle Kent, expressed an interest in needy girls and a disinterest in girls who love to eat out, talked about a magical land where lemons are green, got on men’s rights guys while musing about what it takes to be a real man, shot down the idea of banging prostitutes, got stalked by a girl I creampied on a Colombian bus, and defended the honor of a Brazilian guy who got cockblocked by a fat pig

American women got a lot of blog space this year. I wondered about the best age to date one, complimented their easiness while defending the idea of travel to countries that have harder women, responded to a man-bashing older woman, got on feminists who wanted to make bad pick-up lines punishable by jail time, hypothesized about why their brains are damaged, identified one of their universal problems, criticized them for looking like shit while traveling and having children while single, and brought it all home with a conversation about what’s wrong with America.

My favorite game posts:

• The 9 Immutable Laws Of Pickup
• 18 Reasons Why You Don’t Get Laid
• 16 Different Types Of Game
• Definitive Guide To Going Out Alone
• The Secret To Getting Laid
• How To Cheat On Your Girlfriend Without Getting Caught
• The Dark Side Of Game
• Three Reasons Why Guys Fail In The Game
• The Two Things That Tight Game Comes Down To
• Why You Don’t Need To Understand Women
• How Culture Shapes Game
• Be That Guy
• True Cost Per Notch
• Banging Girls Who Don’t Speak Your Language
• Balancing Between Compliments And Insults (Examples)
• Logical Thinking Increases The Size Of Your Sack
• The Best Motivator That Gets You Approaching Girls
• You Can Only Hit Your True Potential By Getting Rejected
• How To Tell A Girl What You Do
• Stop Being Needy
• How To Get Laid Without Approaching
• How To Tell If A Girl Is Serious About Fucking

I also taught a reality workshop, gave an introduction to Buddhism, did a big site survey, put out a video on Medellin, Colombia, shared my dune buggy adventure in a Brazilian beach town while offering travel tips of the northeast and the city of Vitoria, gave a strategy for living abroad, tried to motivate you, shared my system for learning a foreign language, and released my second book.

I closed comments for six months and while everyone says it was a mistake, I’m satisfied that I stayed motivated to blog without the instant feedback and validation. The thirst to share wisdom is within me. (Fun fact: I’ve banned 39 IP addresses since bringing comments back, and put a dozen others in the moderation doghouse.)

My favorite post of the year was what are you waiting for though I really did like how the dune buggy story turned out. The April Fools gag was going to Ethiopia to feed starving children. It absolutely cannot be topped.

Creatively it was a good year and I’m proud that I was focused and disciplined enough to dig all of it out of my huge, throbbing brain. As a result the blog is receiving the most traffic it ever has.

THE FUTURE

My goal here is not win awards for my writing but deliver ideas and experiences in a way that you can learn, understand, apply, or be entertained from. While I’ve said most of what I wanted to say about game, American girls, and South America, I still think I have things left to contribute. As long as I push myself outside of my comfort zone (i.e. stints living abroad), there should always be cool ideas popping in my head.

I don’t know exactly when but I do see myself cutting down on posting from three times a week to eventually two and then one. I think this is inevitable for those bloggers who have been doing it for so many years, as you simply cannot keep up production (and motivation) from your peak. I don’t see this as a bad thing though: as long as the quality remains strong I think you’ll still get a lot of value. In the meantime I plan on putting out a few more books, and I’m currently working on two simultaneously.

Lastly, I wanted to thank everyone for their support over the past five years, for buying my books, taking my workshop, linking my posts from your blogs, and leaving encouraging comments and emails. Otherwise my life would be probably be very different. Thank you.

Here’s to another five years.

In the past I’ve referred to End Game as a game of no game, where you still play but are not mindful of specific routines or moves. You internalize the correct behavior and by merely existing you spit optimal game.

This explanation is not sufficient for many guys. They want to know when they can stop playing the game completely—when they can sit back, put up their legs, and enjoy the rewards of their game labor. In that case I can say that end game is when you meet a girl you want to have a deep relationship with and commit the rest of your life to.

But is that really end game?

How many guys out there used a bit of game to get a half-ideal bride then threw it all away once the papers were signed to get the cliche once-a-month sex (if they’re lucky) from a nagging woman who gained a significant amount of weight? Most guys over 30 know someone in this situation as it’s not merely internet lore discussed on message boards and blogs.

When you stop demanding respect and standards from your significant other, how can you possibly expect to get the best of what she can offer you? Once a dog is house trained do you just let it run wild whenever it wants, never punishing it for when you find your favorite socks all torn up? No, you keep your hand firm and demand the dog act in a way that pleases you the most. It’s not an accident that dog training and proper wife management share many common elements.

The point of game is to get what you want from women. Therefore when you stop playing the game, and let the stars dictate how she acts towards you, you will stop getting what you want. A very tiny percentage of women in the world are programmed to please you if you’re needy and don’t have balls, which is unfortunately the case for men who don’t use game in today’s society, whether they’re conscious of it or not. You must be scarce, you must be confident, you must be cocky, you must tease, you must have value, and you must demand respect.

If you think that you can stay in the game for a couple years to get a girlfriend and then be done with it, I’m afraid you’re deluded because we’ve arrived at a point where game is absolutely necessary to deal with the modern woman, just like how today’s cubicle dweller must exercise frequently to maintain an attractive weight. By not using game you get lower quality and less sex while the game guys clean up.

A cushy job is no longer enough. A fancy car won’t do it. A McMansion won’t help you either. The new reality is that you need game to compete with guys who are less attractive than you and who make less money than you. Not learning game is like showing up to a job interview in jeans and a t-shirt while the guy next to you is decked out in a custom suit. Nine times out of ten you won’t get the job. Universities offer feminist theory classes—maybe in my time they’ll have pickup theory classes as well, because that’s what is currently needed to even the playing ground. Men need the tools that game offers them to achieve their genetic potential in our feminist culture.

The truth is you should never stop playing the game. The moment you stop playing the game is the moment you stop getting what you want. Some years I will play more than others, but I will not throw away principles based on human nature and hacks into today’s woman which allow me to properly get and manage as many women as I can handle. If you want to be happy then you must embrace game. Game is happiness, and end game is death.

You got no girls, no prospects, and absolutely nothing on the horizon that would hint towards future sex. You’d kill for just a measly date to get the ball rolling again. In that case I recommend the Thirty-Five Maneuver, which I’ve had to pull out in foreign cities. It’s an intense burst of activity that can help turn the tide.

The maneuver begins on a Thursday. After you wake up go on an internet dating site and message ten girls. If you’re in Latin America then Badoo is a good place to try since it’s free.

Then go out on Thursday and do five approaches, either day or night.

Go out on Friday and do ten approaches, either day or night.

Go out on Saturday and do ten approaches, either day or night.

The approaches only count if there is at least some interaction (if she ignores you or tells you to fuck off then it doesn’t). I guarantee you that by Monday night you’ll at the minimum have a couple phone numbers and a date planned. With fresh prospects you can now build some momentum going into the next weekend.

What I like about this maneuver is that it isn’t sustained—give just give one incredible burst of pickup energy and then sit back for a while. It makes sure to take advantage of the weekend where more girls are going to be out, either shopping or drinking.

The downside is that finding girls could be difficult depending on where you are. You may have to dedicate a few hours each day just to hit your quota. Put other things on the back burner while you execute the maneuver because it must have utmost importance in your life at that time. Keep in mind that most men of the world don’t even approach 25+ girls in their life, so what you’re undertaking will take quite a bit of lifeblood.

I like to bust out the Thirty Five Maneuver when I’m in a new city and want to make something happen quickly. I don’t always have time to take it cool and that’s why I think this move will be well-suited for guys who are on the road. While I don’t like to do the manuever becomes of its inelegance and labor intensity, it has not once failed me.

Lately I’ve begun to notice how a man’s essence is revealed by his public displays of affection. Low status and needy males will do the following to girls they are having sex with:

1. Ache to remain in some type of embrace for the majority of a dinner or bar date. He will not feel comfortable breaking any sort of physical contact, like how a child holds onto her favorite Spongebob Squarepants pillow while asleep.

2. Refuse to check out other women in his surroundings who are painfully more beautiful than his girl. He volunteers to give her his balls for the duration of the relationship and stops being a primal man that wants to fuck the world’s women.

3. Goes for more than one kiss, regardless of date length. There is little reason to kiss girls more than once or twice at any public location, unless you haven’t banged her yet and are trying to get her horny enough to bang. A needy male feels that if he doesn’t constantly kiss his girl, she will lose interest.

4. Leans over the imaginary middle line between himself and his girl for more than 20% of the date. It’s better not to hear the girl and simply nod than exhibit weak body language. Most things a girl says aren’t important anyway.

5. Lay on a girl with eyes closed, as Roissy eloquently pointed out.

If I can tell you’re needy without having to interact with you, then you’re making many mistakes that will negatively affect your quality of life. A man will be happier in relationships where not only he has the upper hand but the girl is coming after him for attention and affections. The less you work, the more she will. Otherwise things will always be under her control and you will be in a perpetual state of chasing.

Because let’s be real: no relationship is 50/50. Someone will always know in the back of their mind that they run the show. You have absolutely failed as a man if that’s not you.