Danish girls have thick, stout builds, with Pepsi can bodies and faces that have come into contact with every branch of the ugly tree. They rank up there with the women of Fortaleza, Brazil, as the huskiest women I’ve ever seen. If you want to have a football player son, I advise you to procreate with a Danish woman. While they’re not as fat as American women (who is?), they’re definitely not as svelte as their Icelandic counterparts, who can be a little thick themselves.

You’d think they’d be thinner with all that bicycling they do, but they overcompensate with frequent late-night kebab meals and an all-around fatty diet. Just like in America, it’s not proper to shame fatties into not being so fat, so Danish people are more likely to attribute someone’s disgusting obesity to a glandular problem than from constantly stuffing their pie hole.

I’m still in disbelief that the women of a country can be so ugly. Copenhagen is one of the few large cities I’ve been in the world where I can go several days without seeing an approachable chick. This was also the case in Bolivia, a place where my dick simply powered down due to lack of arousal.

While you’ll still spot cute chicks in the city (somewhere), the average Danish girl is both undatable and unfuckable. You won’t be wowed by the women and you won’t be changing your travel plans to stay longer. The few girls that are decent looking know they’re relatively beautiful and have large flocks of guys surrounding them. The worst part of this is that Danish guys are actually much better looking than the girls. The result is a surplus of good-looking dudes and a limited supply of hot girls. That means that guys are forced to date down.

It was routine to see decent-looking Danish guys with busted Danish girls, but never the other way around. If I saw a hot Danish girl with a man, he’d always be very good-looking. Unlike girls in Brazil or Poland, there’s no reason for a Danish girl to date down because the sexual market is heavily skewed in her favor. Denmark is one of those places like Washington DC where you have to work like a fucking mule to get a 6. The same amount of work in Brazil or Poland would get you an 8.

One feature of the Danish girl that bothered me the most was her masculine walking style. She keeps her arms still while hunching her shoulders over like a wild boar, as if she wants to barrel into something. Sometimes she tilts her head down to add to the masculine effect. I don’t know where they learned how to walk, but I can assure you it’s not feminine. Denmark is the only place where I got out of the way on the sidewalk if a thick girl was approaching, for fear that I might be injured in a possible collision.

Their tits are of respectable size, but their asses are pancakes, not helped by their love of jeans so baggy that they often have to pull them up. If you’re an ass man like myself, you’ll be in tears by your second night in Denmark. The fine asses you do end up seeing will probably be owned by a non-Danish girl.

The hottest girls are usually mixed breed daughters of Middle Eastern immigrants. If she’s good-looking and has a bit of olive in her, you can bet that she’s Danish in culture only. While most foreign girls in Denmark live a normal middle class lifestyle, many are prostitutes shipped in from Africa or Eastern Europe. They walk the streets at night in Copenhagen’s Vesterbro neighborhood, where prostitution laws aren’t enforced. In Denmark they tend to punish the johns instead of the whores, since the girl is an “unfortunate victim of her environment.”

In every country I’ve been to, prostitutes are bottom of the barrel. They’re almost always ugly, filthy whores who would have to pay me to have sex with them. While for the most part this is true in Copenhagen, there were a shocking number of streetwalkers that blew away the Danish women. The hottest girl I saw in my first five days was a sexy Middle Eastern prostitute who walked like a normal woman. I couldn’t believe that such an attractive girl had to sell her body. How did she arrive at that predicament? Why couldn’t she get a sugar daddy? How much did she charge, anyway?

Later, when I moved into my apartment, a Russian prostitute working in front was usually hotter than all the girls I’d see during a night out. Believe me when I say I was tempted. It seems that in Denmark the hottest girl a guy can get is a prostitute, while in the States the prostitutes serve mostly to provide orgasms. When streetwalkers are hotter than the local women, something is very wrong.

Even the style of Danish women is atrocious. They dress frumpy and dumpy, as if they just checked out of a homeless shelter. For some reason, these girls are big fans of dirty black military-style boots, turd-green or brown jackets (sometimes with a German flag on it), loose clothing, baggy jeans or MC Hammer parachute pants, and mismatched scarves or grandma shawls. Their favorite color is brown, since anything feminine like pink is sexist and breaks Jante Law. They step up their style game at night, but during the day they look like absolute hell. There seems to be a competition on how plain and unattractive they can make themselves.

For an idea of what I’m talking about, check out the blog Hel Looks, a site where some guy takes street photos of people in Helsinki, the capital of Finland. Though the country is different, people dress the same.

On the site you’ll notice odd hair styles that are similar to Denmark, as well. Many Danish girls go to a salon and say, “Shave the sides, but leave a bit in the middle.” I would estimate that 10-15% of girls have some part of her head shaved, usually only one side. If they elected not to shave it, they sometimes slick it back like in the Robert Palmer music video “Addicted To Love.” But even the girls in that video, who were designed to look like emotionless sexbots, are fifty times more bangable than your typical Danish girl.

I have painted a picture of ugly-faced women with thick bodies, flat asses, short (or no) hair, military styling, and a walk that makes you want to get out of the way. In summary, Danish girls would make fine soldiers. Even though Denmark is not a militant nation, if World War III breaks out, the government can call upon these female Scandinavian warriors to fight for their country. Since they’re not busy looking like real women, they’ll find adapting to life in the army most agreeable. If you like rough and tumble army chicks who can possibly open a beer bottle using their hands (and not look sexy doing it), Denmark is the place for you.

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The above article was adapted from my newest release, Don't Bang Denmark, a 72-page hater travel guide that teaches you how to sleep with Danish women while simultaneously convincing you not to go. It contains tourist tips, game advice, sex stories, and hate. It gives you all the information you need to dislike Denmark with extra details not released on the blog. It's available in both paperback and ebook. Read sample pages or learn more about the book.

The biggest way to disappoint yourself while playing the game is to have expectations that a woman will satisfy you, treat you with respect, or come through for you in any way, shape, or form. They say you should live each day like it’s your last, so when it comes to women, you should enjoy each meeting as if it will also be the last.

A lot of things can happen that prevent another date, most of which has nothing to do with you. This is especially true today when every woman feels like a little celebrity thanks to Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr. She’s content getting validation from internet fans and orbiters as much as a man in the flesh. Other times it may be completely about you. Maybe she’s losing attraction for you or just not into your style of humor. In either case, besides spitting the best game you can, the result is out of your hands.

There’s no guarantee the number you got will lead to a date. There’s no guarantee that an amazing first date will lead to a second. There’s no guarantee that a girl who said you gave her the best dick in the world will want to see you again. There’s no guarantee that your girlfriend of six months will not suddenly fall in love with another man. The only guarantee is the law of averages, which tells you to play the field and not bet the farm on one hand. Monogamous relationships with honorable women who want to grow old with you until death do you part is a thing of the past.

In my early 20s, it was my nature to romantically fantasize about women I met. Reality helped me temper that habit. Otherwise I’d be an emotionally shattered man too scared to ask out another girl for fear that she would flake on me. The truth is that fantastic pickups and dates only slightly correlate to whether you will see a girl again. You can have the best game in the world with buttery lips that make her melt with ecstasy, but there’s no way you can counter a hater comment by her fat friend who did her best in making your girl feel guilty for going out with you. There’s no way you can keep her ego at a normal level when 20 guys hit on her the night after you met her. You have absolutely no control over most of the things that block your chances at getting into her pants.

Women have trained men like me to be as cold as possible in order to meet my sexual needs. When I’m with a girl that I like, and I look into her eyes and she looks back into mine, I do all that I can to get what I want from her at that moment, because I know there’s a good chance I may never see her again. Her pretty face can disappear off the face of the earth, and it won’t make any difference to me.

I remember ten years ago when the thought of death put me into an immediate panic. I couldn’t bear to think that all I am will cease to exist. I didn’t want to believe that one day everything I did to become the best man I could would disappear for all eternity. I’d push the thoughts out of my mind like I’m trained to do by Western culture.

Now it’s rare that a day goes by where I don’t think of the grim reaper. I hold death real close to my chest, using it as the main way to act instead of waiting for tomorrow. The reaper pushes me to go against what my upbringing has indoctrinated me to do, to fit my peg body into the college-career-mortgage-marriage hole.

The more I think of death and the more I use it as a tool, of knowing that there is a clock on my life that ticks every second of every day with a random deadline that I can’t predict, the more it has pushed me to take the tough steps of making big changes in my life.

It’s now clear to me what I have to do so that I will not be upset when the end is near: I have to complete as many of my dreams and goals as quickly as possible. It’s a bucket list I must work on while still very much alive, not when I turn 50 or get diagnosed with a life-ending illness. I’m in the prime of my life, but I’m living as if it will soon end.

I believe the more times you can say “been there, done that” on your death bed to all the things you set out to do, the more peacefully you can go. These can range from the insignificant to the lofty:

• Banging a big Brazilian booty
• Writing a book
• Learning a foreign language
• Starting a successful business
• Living in another country for one year
• Procreating
• Playing a few songs on a musical instrument
• Fucking cheap hookers who loved you all night long
• Paying off debt
• Owning a restaurant or bar
• Starting a nonprofit organization
• Beating someone up with your bare hands

While it will be impossible to complete everything you want to do before you die, there is a point where you feel like you’ve done enough, where you’ve gone far above your human duty and any extra day you live on earth is gravy on top of what already was an exciting life where you acted instead of waited. When it’s your time to go, you can say to yourself, “I had a good run,” and close your eyes with no regrets. This is what I want.

The Danish system of equality is amplified by Jante Law, a set of cultural rules that is deeply engrained in every Dane. Its main tenet can be summed up as: “No one is superior to anyone else.”

It’s taboo to show off, brag, or even indirectly show your value. You can’t talk about how much you enjoy your job, how you bought an awesome brand new anything, or how generally happy you are with life—anything that might show how you may be better than your audience. When you disagree with someone, you have to be very gentle about criticizing them because otherwise you would imply that you’re smarter. You can never say “you’re wrong” to anyone. Most Danes avoid possible arguments by simply not bringing up their contrary opinions.

Here are the ten rules of Jante Law:

1. Don’t think you’re anything special.
2. Don’t think you’re as good as us.
3. Don’t think you’re smarter than us.
4. Don’t convince yourself that you’re better than us.
5. Don’t think you know more than us.
6. Don’t think you are more important than us.
7. Don’t think you are good at anything.
8. Don’t laugh at us.
9. Don’t think anyone cares about you.
10. Don’t think you can teach us anything.

Take a minute to think about the resulting personalities of people who believe in these rules. Combine it with Danes not being risk takers. Can you imagine the type of conversations that result?

Painfully boring conversations.

Everyone is scared of generalizing or giving strong opinions. Risky topics are avoided. Showing knowledge or experience must be done in a light-handed way. All your accomplishments, no matter how small, must be minimized to make them a result of luck instead of hard work or innate talent. You can’t judge those who are less fortunate than you by calling them lazy or stupid. You’re immediately punished for showing any real spark or emotion. You must hide your individuality and conform to what society expects of you.

The Danish egalitarian system and Jante Law feed on each other to form what is one of the most liberal, feminist-friendly societies in the world. Therefore, when it comes to getting laid, your American attitude and belief system will cockblock the fuck out of you before you even open your mouth. Since basically the entire point of game is showing you’re better than the next guy, something that Jante Law specifically forbids, it’s no surprise to find that game efforts will not be well received in Denmark, especially if you consider yourself an alpha male. It was amusing how often and how quickly I’d offend every Danish girl without even trying.

In the States you may have heard someone say, “If the police want to get you, they will. There are so many laws on the books that you’re always breaking one at any point.” I feel the same way with Jante Law. As an American, you’re breaking every facet of Jante Law just by being American. Your confident body language alone is breaking tenets one and four. Understand that Danish culture will cockblock you on your every approach.

Even minor game techniques go over poorly in Denmark. For example, let’s take a look at this statement: “When I was in Colombia for six months, I studied Spanish. I got good at it, but now I suck again.” A pretty innocent way to show value to a girl, right? Not in Denmark. I’m implying that I’m more well-traveled than her and also more knowledgeable in the realm of language. I’m breaking Jante Law. The girl will punish me by withdrawing from the conversation.

You’re probably thinking that this is absurd. That’s because you’re from a country like America, England, Australia, or Canada, where that type of statement will be rewarded with female interest. The conversation you’re supposed to have in Denmark should be void of these types of “value drops” while at the same time not teasing her at all, since teasing implies that you’re better than her. Consider that even wearing a tight t-shirt that shows off your muscles comes close to breaking Jante Law because you’re bragging that you’re stronger than someone else. In Denmark, individuality must be destroyed for the greater good. You’re not an individual, just a worthless slug that is just like all the other slugs.

While the Danish government has made human rights more egalitarian, Jante Law has made sex more egalitarian. Instead of a few guys fucking all the women like in the States (while the sexual losers stay home and play World of Warcraft), you have more Danish guys getting laid, though with fewer partners. In other words, the alpha male is neutralized in Denmark. He’s not rewarded with more sex for his alphaness because alphaness breaks Jante Law.

If you were in a country where game didn’t really matter and everyone downplayed their attractiveness by looking like they had just come out of a thrift store, which man would fuck the most women? Answer: the one with the best social circle.

My biggest complaint about Jante Law is that there is a double standard in how it’s applied. I’ve already remarked how Denmark is a highly feminist country. It’s a place where women think they’re equal or superior to men, eager to castrate them for displays of alpha masculinity. So can you take a guess as to which gender will be hypocrites when it comes to the law’s application?

Danish women are the most hypocritical breed of female I have ever encountered. Let me give you an example. In conversations, I would make a comment about how Danish women aren’t feminine or that the state shouldn’t be so eager to take care of drug addicts who have no interest in quitting. I was then scolded for having “expectations” of how people should or shouldn’t act and that I was attributing a person’s faults to his nature instead of his environment. Fair enough—that was their argument and I can respect another person’s opinion.

Then five minutes later, I’d say I was going to Poland. The Danish girl would frown and say, “Why Poland? The people there are ugly. Polish girls are dirty prostitutes.” Really? You just got on me for generalizing, but now you’re doing it five times worse. This happened to me at least a couple of times each week.

You’re not allowed to criticize Denmark or their way of life, since you’re just a stupid, possibly fat American, but she can criticize anything she wants while shitting on your opinion at the same time. This angered me to no end, and the fact that Danish women ended up being so wrong about Polish women suggests they hold some jealousy towards them.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Jante Law has two real purposes. The first is to hold men down. It serves to cherish women and their opinions and hypocrisy while preventing you from “fighting” back. A girl can break Jante Law but you can’t, and if you do, you’ll be banished from the tribe. This is a classic case of women demanding equality but then perpetuating inequality to further their cause at the expense of men’s.

The second feature of Jante Law is to keep your neighbor down. If there is no benefit for your neighbor to show off his unique character, experience, or wealth, that means he’ll be more ashamed about doing better in life than you. Jante Law is like an anti-bragging behavioral modification drug meant to make people who aren’t as skilled or successful as you feel better about themselves.

What Jante Law ultimately does is protect the egos of women and the unambitious who constantly feel the need to compare their lot with everyone else’s. While I approve of the benefits the government gives to all its citizens, Jante Law is something I can’t live with. Unfortunately, we have to accept that they go hand-in-hand, that we can’t fulfill basic human rights for all without viewing everyone as equal. That’s fine for most people, but I’ve spent way too much time happily surviving in the jungle to pack my bags and move into the zoo.

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The above article was adapted from my newest release, Don't Bang Denmark, a 72-page hater travel guide that teaches you how to sleep with Danish women while simultaneously convincing you not to go. It contains tourist tips, game advice, sex stories, and hate. It gives you all the information you need to dislike Denmark with extra details not released on the blog. It's available in both paperback and ebook. Read sample pages or learn more about the book.

I thought of this question after reading Schopenhauer’s essay On Women. Is their main purpose in life to push papers in an office? To become fans of pop music? Addicts of smartphones? Mindless consumers of corporate brands?

No, it’s simply to reproduce.

Quick—name a female scientist besides Marie Curie. Name a female artist during the Renaissance. Name a famous female architect or Nobel Prize winner. Women have been quiet in the history of the world not because of male privilege, but because they’re not designed to achieve. The advantage that nature has given them concerns solely their appearance.

[Nature] has provided her with superabundant beauty and charm for a few years at the expense of the whole remainder of her life, so that during these years she may so capture the imagination of a man that he is carried away into undertaking to support her honorably in some form or another for the rest of her life, a step he would seem hardly likely to take for purely rational considerations.

A woman loses her beauty during motherhood because it’s superfluous to her existence. For every MILF you encounter there are 100 mothers whose drab appearance would not even breach your consciousness. Western women, through their stupidity and lack of self-control, have rebuked nature’s call of taking advantage of those few years of beauty by staying fat and masculine for their entire lives. It’s too little, too late when she’s unable to attract decent men in her mid 30s or silence the call of her genes telling her to become a mother. She will remain barren, a failure in life.

I’ve always said that even shy and young girls have a competence of game that would rival that of experienced men who are much older. Female game, in the form of cunning, manipulation, lying, and charm, is hard-wired into their genetics. While some men are also born with such skills, most have to learn it through trial and error. Men of the past have found it much easier at becoming skilled at a specific trade and earning money in order to land a wife than to compete with women in the game arena. But when having a good job is no longer sufficient, like it is today, the arduous process of becoming competent at game must be undertaken. The demand for game advice has become so great that it has spawned its own industry in several countries, the first time that has happened in world history.

[Women] are sexus sequior, the inferior second sex in everything respect: one should be indulgent towards their weaknesses, but to pay them honour is ridiculous beyond measure and demeans us even in their eyes.

This is a fact that white knights will never understand. As any game practitioner knows, a woman does not respect you if you respect her. Call this sad or unfortunate but that’s the reality of human nature. Women do not like you if you attribute value to them that is not actually there. Complimenting a woman beyond her appearance, such as on her personality, courage, intelligence, or what have you, is a sure-fire way to not sleep with her. Even complimenting her beauty has become dangerous. Do so at your own peril and be hated by your penis for all eternity.

That the property which has cost men long years of toil and effort, and been won with so much difficulty, should afterwards come into the hands of women, who then, in their lack of reason, squander it in a short time, or otherwise fool it away, is a grievance and a wrong as serious as it common, which should be prevented by limiting the right of women to inherit.

There is a reason why a woman’s vagina was locked up and guarded in ancient times until marriage: she could not be trusted with her sexual choices. Look at a modern woman’s sexual behavior and ask yourself who is gaining from her promiscuity. Alpha men are gaining. She’s wasting the few years of beauty she has to fuck them with absolutely no commitment or strings, and soon will be left alone, without a provider, and nothing to show for her prime years of beauty besides HPV and a bitter attitude. Ancient practices were followed to specifically avoid this outcome, no matter how “misogynist” they are to the modern feminist cunt.

There is no point in wasting any more energy worrying about their plight. They made their bed and will now lie in it while sucking off the alpha she just met in the bar. Having game, being alpha, and understanding the true nature of women allow today’s man to be harem masters of the past. I’m enjoying this party to no end, but one day the music will stop. And then I’ll adapt again.

I went to Miami Beach for spring break in my senior year of college. It was the year 2001 and I was 21 years old. A friend sold me into going even though I couldn’t really afford it. He urged me to put the trip on my credit cards, saying that I’d surely pay off upon getting a real job after graduation. He made it sound like it was the opportunity of a lifetime and if I didn’t go then I’d regret it forever.

I had been out to clubs a couple times before, but I had absolutely no game, no style, no confidence, and no money. All I had was hope that I’d get lucky. My mom helped me pack my wardrobe, including two fine pair of brown slacks, and I was off.

For some reason, guys think it’s easier to succeed with women when they are far away from home, that you unlock some type of cheat code that places you in a parallel universe where women are ten times more attracted to you. I thought no different. I believed that stepping foot in Miami would reveal the Casanova that was always bubbling underneath. I even took a couple boxes of condoms.

It become very clear early on that I would not succeed. I was a helpless little minnow in an ocean far bigger and more competitive than my University of Maryland lake. Me and my slacks were utterly unable to compete, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try. I approached at least ten girls that week, my first approaches ever, and actually got a number from one (I remember calling her from a pay phone). I also talked to a “hot” girl for about fifteen minutes. I was proud of myself. Though I didn’t come close to getting laid, or even kissing a girl, it was the moment I first dipped my foot into the pool. The water wasn’t as cold as I had thought.

I get nostalgic when I think about that trip. I was just a sexually frustrated guy who wanted to bang a couple girls until finding a nice girlfriend. Back then I fantasized more about cuddling and romantic trips than aggressively loosening a woman’s pussy. I had no clue I would become who I am today, a guy who fucks just for the sake of fucking with no higher aim in mind.

I thought that learning game would be a means to the end of helping me get a girlfriend, but I didn’t know that within my nature was a man who viewed the game as the end itself. Now I look back at poor little Roosh of 2001, and remember how he had to gather the powers of Zeus to approach just one woman.

Then I wonder why men become who they become.

Denmark is one of those countries that saw glory several hundred years ago, lost its power, and then reinvented itself into a mostly pacifist nanny state. Thanks to its participation in the NATO alliance, Denmark has reasonably low military expenditures that—with its high tax rates—allow it to divert funds into social programs, in which it ranks among the best in the world.

The Danish welfare state is admirable: every citizen receives fully covered cradle-to-grave services. A Danish person has no idea what it feels like to not have medical care or free access to university education. They have no fear of becoming homeless or permanently jobless. The government’s soothing hand will catch everyone as they fall. To an American like myself, brainwashed to believe that you need to earn things like basic health care or education by working your ass off, it was quite a shock.

The biggest surprise was that the Danish government pays people to attend university for both undergraduate and graduate degrees. In addition to having health care costs covered and access to cheap rent, all students receive at least a $1,000 a month stipend to attend class. Along with part-time jobs that pay high wages, the average Danish twenty-something lives a pretty comfortable life getting educated to eventually follow a straightforward career path in a country where nearly full employment seems to be the rule.

Even if you don’t get a job, the government will pay you each month until you do. Do you feel like taking a little hiatus to a foreign country? As long as you can show you’re taking part-time classes, the government will keep the cash flowing. For a lower-class American, becoming a Danish citizen is almost like winning the lottery.

How is Denmark able to afford this? Two ways: they spend a third less of their GDP on the military than we do, and they tax the hell out of their citizens. Tax rates start at 40% and tilt above 50% for the top classes. My effective tax rate last year as an American resident was 20%, so the question I’ve asked myself is if I’d want to double my tax for not having to worry about being homeless or getting a serious disease. I’m leaning towards no, since of course one day I’m going to be a billionaire like every other American and don’t want half of it taken away. I would actually save money by being taxed at 20% and getting private health insurance, but then again I’m middle-class and can afford it. America is great if you have money, but Denmark is great for everyone.

What surprised me most about Denmark is their healthy job market. It’s almost guaranteed that a job will await every Dane after graduation, and I’m not talking about crappy jobs at McDonald’s or Walmart, but well-paying career positions. After taxes and the exorbitant high prices for basic goods, Danish people still live comfortably. No one is starving and you’ll have to look hard to find homeless people.

It’s no accident that the American media isn’t eager to discuss the many citizen benefits that countries like Denmark have. They are quick to do profiles on poor countries in the third-world, but they rarely write about the extensive services Scandinavian countries provide for all of their citizens, regardless of race or class. When they do talk about these countries, it’s usually about how budget cuts are looming for their “ailing” social models, as if the average American citizen is doing far better.

Unfortunately, there is a cost to providing your citizens everything they possibly need: you make them averse to taking risks. Why bother when you got it made in the shade? There is little incentive for entrepreneurship and striking it rich, even though the Ease of Doing Business Index ranks Denmark as number six, only one behind America. Danes would rather work for the man and do the minimum required of them to coast through the system than take a gamble. Being aggressive and taking risks may cost them some serious benefits, so they do what they need to in order to maintain a decent middle-class existence. While I don’t blame them, this mildly offends the entrepreneurial spirit within my American core.

The Government’s Role As Mother And Father

Thanks to its extensive services, the Danish government has replaced parents as the primary caregiver. The Danes decided that there was too much inequality in the system with the rich having access to all the benefits, so they constructed an egalitarian society. The government’s utopian visionaries told parents, “You don’t have to do anything but love your children. We’ll take care of the rest. Oh, and when you get old, we’ll take care of you, too.”

Since family is pushed out of the picture, one consequence is that Danish people very seldom talk about their families. I never saw a 20- or 30-something Danish adult with an elderly person, whereas in Poland I saw it a dozen times a day. The old people are pushed aside to be taken care of by the system, not by the kids, the opposite of what I saw in South America where the elders are cherished, often living in the same household as the younger generations. I’d bet that the average Danish person interacts with the government more than with their parents.

Another consequence of the Danish system is that women no longer need men. For hundreds of thousands of years, women have sought to marry powerful men with strong financial means in order to live a comfortable life (or to merely survive), but in Denmark this is not at all necessary. Danish women don’t need to find a man, because the government will take care of her and her cats, whether she is successful at dating or not. Her quality of life won’t be negatively affected if she happens to remain single until death, whereupon her cats will inherit her possessions according to Danish law.

Since a Danish woman is in no rush to find someone, she wants to hold out for her top choice instead of having to “settle” for any particular man while she’s still in her physical prime. The result is that Danish women like to sample men and play the field, thinking they have all the time in the world. They’re also less willing to change their behavior by adopting a pleasing figure or style that’s more likely to attract men. It’s no surprise that there’s a flood of sloppy 30-something women on dating sites, making Denmark one of the most popular countries where the Internet is used to find a mate.

In spite of the negatives, I think the Danish economic and welfare system is superior to the American system for one simple reason: it’s fair. They have achieved a near utopia of human equality, where everyone can educate themselves and seek employment without fear of possible bankruptcy from illness. Even the mentally decrepit and drug addicted are treated like human beings, meaning that everyone has an opportunity to rise up above their station. In the United States we have a bad habit of kicking people when they’re down. Watching people fall, especially the famous, is almost a national sport, but in Denmark, they put out a strong hand to help you back onto your feet.

I liken the United States to a jungle where everyone must fend for themselves. A lot of people don’t make it, but the ones that do can roam the land freely and suck on its glorious fruit. On the other hand, Denmark is like a pleasant zoo with scheduled feeding times and twenty-four-hour veterinarian care. While I’d prefer the American system if I was on top of the food chain, the average human being would be better served by the Danish system.

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The above article was adapted from my newest release, Don't Bang Denmark, a 72-page hater travel guide that teaches you how to sleep with Danish women while simultaneously convincing you not to go. It contains tourist tips, game advice, sex stories, and hate. It gives you all the information you need to dislike Denmark with extra details not released on the blog. It's available in both paperback and ebook. Read sample pages or learn more about the book.

If you’re a man who has slept with a lot of women, it’s hard not to have those successes floating in the back of your mind when you’re looking for a new lay. You may feel that you’ve unlocked an upper level of pussy and shouldn’t have to redo lower levels that you labored on when you were younger. You wouldn’t even mind if new girls you meet had prior knowledge of all those beautiful girls you fucked, all to make the social proof obvious. You much rather leverage past bangs into current success instead of starting from scratch and grinding it out.

The beautiful Colombian girl you fucked a couple years ago? Doesn’t matter. The 18-year-old with a perfect body who you raw dogged? Big deal. The doctor’s wife you seduced that let you drive around in her husband’s expensive toys? No one gives a fuck. You’re only as good as your last bang. The past is not water that you can carry over to the present, just an abstraction that grows dim in your mind with time.

I rode a little high into Latvia after banging two new girls during my final weekend in Poland. I was ready to keep the momentum going and do even better in my new home in Riga. The universe had other plans for me.

I swung wildly but was unable to connect with the ball. My first week I went out on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, did countless approaches in almost ten different venues, both day and night, but had only two measly numbers to show for it. I was annoyed and angry because I thought I had passed the point of grinding it out, especially after coming from a country that was easy for me. The universe knew I was getting spoiled in Poland. It wanted me to be humbled again, to appreciate what I had. It began throwing curve balls to remind me of it really takes to succeed in the game.

I was beat by the time Saturday came around. I didn’t want to go out, and my thoughts constantly drifted back to Poland. I made myself snap out of it. Whatever made me successful there was not present in my new home, so I had to treat Poland as dead. I went to the coffee shop and wrote down a plan to get my Latvian flag from the things I had so far learned in my three days of experience. That night I walked out of the door with the plan in my pocket, telling myself that I couldn’t return home before 7am without exhausting all possibilities.

I got lucky on my third approach and returned home half past five with a Latvian girl. She had no idea that violating her pussy was the culmination of four grinding days where I questioned the decision to visit her city.

The universe doesn’t owe you anything. I don’t care what you’ve done in the past. I don’t care where you’ve been and who you’ve fucked, because there is nothing that says you are supposed to succeed today. No girl you talk to has to treat you well or be easy just because she’s not as hot as another girl you had a long time ago. All that matters is how committed you are to putting in time and effort towards your goal. Your game, your skill, your environment, and the level of difficulty will always change but as long as you work, you will succeed. Walk up to the universe, tell it you’re not spoiled, you’re not entitled, and then punch it in the face. Make it watch you put in that work.