I decided that I had to get my Icelandic flag no matter what. If I had to fuck a fatty, I’d put an honest effort into doing so and there would be no bitching or complaining until the deed was done. I had to release the unbearable pressure.
The only problem was that I couldn’t come up with the motivation to approach. I just didn’t want to do it. I sat at the bar for over an hour, talking on and off to the Belgian bartender. His coworker was a cute girl from the Czech Republic.
“You’re totally blind,” she said. “That girl with the curly hair was staring at you.”
“Oh, I saw that, but she’s way too stocky for me. I like my women around your height, about 110 pounds.”
“I weigh 50 kilograms—what is that in pounds?”
“Let me check.” I pulled out my cell phone and used one of the tools to convert 110 pounds to kilograms. Then I looked at her and said, “My phone says that 110 pounds is 49.9 kilograms. Soooo… what are you doing next week?”
We laughed and she playfully hit my hand. I would have loved to ravage her, but unfortunately I already had a Czech flag and my next fuck had to be Icelandic. I didn’t want to be in the dangerous position of running out of time before flag attainment.
Why was I putting such pressure on myself? One reason was that it would be a fucking travesty to be in a country for two months and not get a bang. Toss in a big dollop of ego, in that it “should” happen quickly for me since I teach this shit, and the pressure was even higher. I’ve arrived at the point where if I don’t get laid within two hours of landing in a country, I’m a phony who no one should listen to.
I did a couple of warm-up approaches and they went how they normally went. The girls were polite until we got interrupted or they ditched. I had trouble sustaining things and couldn’t transition from superficial conversation to playful teasing and flirting.
Later I saw a cute dark-haired girl with olive skin. I approached and she turned out to be Australian, on vacation with two girlfriends. I actually had more trouble understanding their accents than with the Icelandic girls.
I said, “Alright, I’m going to guess which city you guys are from just by hearing you talk.”
“Go ahead,” one said.
There was a chorus of “Oh my god, how did you know? That’s so awesome!”
It was a lucky guess.
I was accepted into the group and the other girls allowed me to isolate the cute one. We talked for quite a while until I felt a kick on my shin. I looked to my right and it was a girl who dipped on me earlier. I leaned into her and said, “You ditch when I’m talking to you but then you see me talking to another girl and now you want to chat? I see how it is.” I then ignored her because I never let a girl reject me twice.
The girlfriends of the Australian eventually came back and wanted to drag us to the louder part of the bar to dance. I went reluctantly. Once we were there, I realized I’d have to stay with those girls for the rest of the night for an opportunity to bang, because they weren’t going to separate any time soon. Just like when talking to the Czech girl, I got on myself for losing focus. I returned back to my spot. I had to get the Icelandic flag first.
Then I saw the girl I had gotten to within a few feet of my front door. I hadn’t contacted her and it had been a week, so I wasn’t surprised when she shot me a visible scowl and turned around. A player always keeps his options open, so what I had done a few days earlier to prepare for this very scenario was change one digit of her number on my phone. I knew there was a good chance I’d be desperate and horny if I ever saw her again.
I went up to her and said, “Hey, I think I know you.” She was visibly annoyed and didn’t even look me in the eyes.
“What happened? I texted you and you didn’t write back,” I said.
“You didn’t text me.”
“I definitely did.”
“Well, I didn’t get any text, so—” she said, looking away.
“Well, that’s weird. Let me see.” I pulled up her number on my phone and said, “This is your number, right?”
“Yeah that’s my num—wait! No, you got it wrong.”
“Oh, shit. I must’ve entered it incorrectly,” I said, putting on a performance that would have gotten me nominated for an Oscar. She told me the digit to change, but it didn’t register in my brain.
“Hey, I have to leave right now to go to another bar, but text me later,” she said, giving me a big smile that let me know I was back in it.
I watched her walk away and thought about my brilliant execution of the old “I put it in wrong” trick. Then I looked at my phone to correct the number, but I had forgotten which digit was wrong. Fuck, so much for brilliant execution.
I did more approaches, but it was the same shit—an okay start to a conversation that went nowhere. The girls gave me absolutely nothing to work with and it felt like I was having a monologue with myself.
Last call came. It was my fifth night out in Iceland and I had to admit I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. My game had been only marginally effective on one girl out of the thirty or so I had approached in the country so far. I was throwing everything and anything out there, hoping something would work, but none of my best prospects for the night were from Iceland. The Czech and Australian were fun girls who knew how to flirt, and I felt like I had a solid chance of getting somewhere if I had pursued them, but how could I elicit such a reaction in Icelandic girls?
It turned out I was asking the wrong question. Instead of trying to elicit a certain reaction, I had to ask myself if I needed to elicit that reaction. I assumed all girls went through the same progression of flirting and touching and so on, but could it be possible that some girls don’t need that in order to have sex?
The next thirty minutes went by quickly. First there was the tall ballerina. She was drop-dead gorgeous, but the conversation ended quickly. Then there was the girl with custom feather earrings. That conversation lasted three minutes. Then there was her friend, who actually asked me questions, but that died out, too. Then there was the friend of that friend. She barely spoke to me but did something peculiar upon leaving. As she was walking away, she gave me a long stare. I’m standing there, waving goodbye as if she was leaving on a ship, while she stared with her head craned around to face me. Did she want me to follow her? Was that a sign?
The back bar shut down, but the bartenders let me stay with them. I did a shot with the Belgian and gave him a recap of the night. Then he said, “You know, it’s funny, sometimes after work I go sit on a bench outside and some girl starts talking to me and takes me home.”
“Wait, right on the street?” I asked.
“Yeah, right here,” he laughed. “It just happens… they pick you.”
“How many times have you banged a girl that way?”
“A few times.”
“Yeah, man, it’s weird here. It’s hard to explain.”
I helped him clean for a few minutes and then went to the part of the bar that was still open. I stood next to the window and looked outside while a girl stared at me. I asked her when the bar closed.
“It closes now,” she said.
“Do you want to come with me and my friends?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
“Do you want to do cocaine?”
“I don’t mind weed, but, um—”
“Come on let’s go!” She grabbed my arm and led me outside to meet her friends. The only problem was her ugliness; she actually had a tooth missing on the bottom row. Two blocks away we stopped for a minute and I decided I just couldn’t sleep with her. She sensed it and walked away, leaving me alone on the street corner.
I looked around for a bench and found one, but concluded it was ridiculous to even try. I gave up for the night. I still hadn’t gotten a flag in a country where sex was supposed to be easy. I was a failure and a total fraud.
During the walk home, I slowed my pace to relive the night’s approaches and to identify my weaknesses, stretching a ten-minute walk into more than twice that, but nothing was coming to me. I was tired and intoxicated and just wanted to go to bed.
What I’m about to share with you next will seem like fiction. If I read it, I’d automatically assume it was false, regardless of who had written it.
I was almost within sight of my front door, walking slow with my head facing the ground. I heard a woman’s footsteps behind me, but I was so dejected that I didn’t bother to look back to see if she was attractive or not. The footsteps got louder, and then I heard a voice.
“Are you okay?”
“Who, me?” I said.
“Yeah, you. Are you sick?”
She was decent-looking, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a petite body. She wasn’t quite pretty enough to approach a few hours prior, but at six in the morning I couldn’t believe I was in the game with a bangable prospect so close to my house.
I livened up. “Oh, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired. I’m not used to staying out so late like you Icelanders.”
“Where are you from?” We stopped walking at the exact same corner where the girl from the previous week had escaped into a cab.
“I’m from the States.”
“I love foreigners!” she said, taking out a cigarette as if to say she wanted to stick around for a while.
The hardest place to pick a girl up is on the street. It’s such a pain that I don’t bother unless the nightlife sucks, so for a girl to approach me so late at night on the street was something I’d never experienced in my life. If I had seen an approach go down like that in a movie, I would have been disgusted and turned it off, yet it was happening to me.
I said, “You spoke to me in English. How did you know?”
“Oh, just by the way you dress and look. It was easy.”
We talked about Icelandic culture, American culture, and what I was doing in Iceland. She was about to finish her cigarette when I asked if she was tired.
“Not really,” she said.
“Well, do you want to have a drink with me before you go home? I live right there,” I said, pointing to my front door.
“You live right there?”
“Yes, I live right there.”
“Who are you staying with?”
“No one. I’m alone,” I said, maintaining eye contact.
“Sure, I can use a drink.”
I made her a scotch on the rocks. She took off her shoes and settled on my bed while I put on some music.
“Do you think I’m a slut?” she asked out of the blue.
“What do you mean?” I said, needing time to think.
“I mean, don’t you think it’s weird that a girl will come home with you after only a few minutes?”
“Not at all. We had a nice conversation and the natural thing to do is to share a drink and get to know each other better. You have to understand that in America things can move really quickly. If you get along with someone, anything can happen.”
She smiled and took off her jacket. “That makes sense.”
I played it slow, and by slow, I mean I didn’t join her on the bed for about two minutes. I tinkered with the music queue on my laptop and changed into shorts and a t-shirt in front of her. Only then did I join her on the bed. We kissed.
She pulled away and said, “Icelanders don’t date. We’re not like Americans. Only Americans date.”
Obviously she hasn’t been in other parts of the world. ”So, what do Icelanders do?” I asked, humoring her.
“We meet at night and have sex. Then we say goodbye the next morning and run into each other some other time.”
“But how about if you like the person?”
It seemed to me that she was trying to prove that she didn’t get attached to guys. She calmed down on the tough-guy crap and her clothes started coming off. Then I heard the sweetest five words a girl could ever say: “Do you have a condom?”
There was maybe only two minutes of total kissing time before I violated her vagina. I felt so little investment in the bang that I didn’t even make the slightest effort to delay my orgasm by changing positions. I simply went directly for the nut then rolled over and fell asleep. It was the most impersonal sex I’d ever had. She might as well have been a prostitute.
In the middle of the night I got another boner, put on a condom, and jammed it back in while she was half-asleep. I came and passed out again with the condom still on my dick.
In the morning, she lingered longer than I would have suspected for someone who “doesn’t date.” I fiddled around on my laptop, hoping she would leave.
“What song are you playing?” she asked.
“This is something by Empire of the Sun,” I said.
“Oh, I’ve heard of them before. They have the same singer as MGMT.”
“No, that’s a different band.”
“But their singers are the same.”
“I assure you, they’re not.”
“No, I’m sure they are,” she insisted.
You stupid dumb bitch. I went on Wikipedia and proved her wrong, but she still remained skeptical.
“So,” I said, “do you need help getting home?”
I walked her to the door and then said, “Well, if you get horny next weekend, I’ll check the street corner at exactly six a.m. to see if you’re there.”
I gave myself a fist pump when the door closed, then went back to sleep.
The above story is from Bang Iceland, an 80-page book that teaches you how to sleep with Icelandic women during a visit to the country. It contains tourist tips, game advice, and five additional sex stories that give you all the information you need to pillage creamy white Icelandic women, 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.Tweet Follow @rooshv
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absolute money roosh.just goes to show when your at the bottom,you must go back up
> Then I heard the sweetest five words a girl could ever say: “Do you have a condom?
Surely the sweetest five words a girl could ever say are “I really, really hate condoms”
Agreed, great story. I don’t understand why Bang Iceland has not been well received by the locals? Truth hurts I guess.
Really well written. I really like how you emphasize the number of girls you need to approach and the internal struggle of keeping up your spirits in order to keep trying until you succeed.
I hadn’t planned to buy BI. I think that I will now.
I love stories like this… The lift from the nadir. I’d love to hear more personal accounts like this. Thoroughly enjoyable.
Made me LOL!
Dude, can you please STOP posting this anti-game shit and get back to teaching us how to get women? Have you become an anti-gamer or something?
I dont want to read your 100th experience of how game did not work for you and how you were essentially picked by the woman, or how it is a pure numbers game, etc.
I dont want to read about how you approached 30 girls who did not respond to your game only to have to let women pick you up, and then have you tell me you KNOW HOW TO GET WOMEN.
I ACTUALLY DO BELIEVE you know how to get women, but I want to see more of that knowledge, and not this anti-game shit.
Man, anti-game is getting bigger and bigger these days, I am starting to see it everywhere.
(Roosh: You have a very narrow definition of what game is. You’re a game revisionist, redefining it to fit your perceptions of how it “should” be.)
WOW…that really is an odd culture they have there. People talk about “hook up” culture in the US, but theirs is far more extreme. Wait on a bench, and a chick will come along and pick you up? Crazy. But also kind of cool!
A wise friend once told me “The important thing is inside”, so next time when you are out there drunk and horny at 3a.m. remember this before hesitating on a subpar girl…
wait on a bench game. priceless.
Last-call game does two things.
On one hand, men can get as much easy sex as they can handle in the place like Iceland.
On the other hand, women make themselves game-proof so that they fully control who they have sex with.
Lots of sex, but little utility for proper talking-game.
Roosh, I love you man. No homo.
Nobody out there writes with more authenticity than you do. And that word, authenticity, is very overused. You put your emotions and inner dialog on display, confidently, yet vulnerably. There’s no doubt this is real. Few people have the balls to write like this.
It really, strongly hit me as I was reading this piece that you have a big future as a writer in general, not just a pickup writer. I think you could write excellent screenplays or novels, your ear for dialogue is excellent. Plus the subject matter is of course greatly entertaining.
This lifestyle is not for everyone, but man is it funny and interesting to read about.
lol what a world
That was cool!
Roosh’s personal stories are the best. Can’t wait to read his future “My Uncle Roosh” novel I know will happen.
Hah, that’s cool. A similar thing happened to me in Serbia. This 30something girl picked me up on the bus stop in the middle of the night and basically took ME back to MY place. She even payed for the cab.
Maybe I need to buy this book … even though I just can’t see myself dealing with all that bullshit.
I’m more about hiring a hot ladyboy personal assistant and having her get my drinks and bring me girls, find the awesomest illicit after hours spots.
It might be happening in all the trainwreck glory that my life always turns into: http://two.cedonulli.com/2011/12/ladyboy-personal-assistant/
LoL, even funnier than the e mail you sent about it… Banging one country at a time… fist pump
I love the honesty man, is it safe to say, roosh got his swagger back?
My question is, where in the world can you find this extremely healthy attitude toward casual sex, with a much larger market? Helsinki perhaps.
You say it sounds like fiction, but a very similar thing happened to me leaving from K Street Lounge a few years back.
I was walking around trying to find my car, slightly intox’ed, and hadn’t had any luck that night.
Random chic walked up behind me asking if I was alright. Told her I couldn’t find my car, but she could escort me for part of the way. Chic was almost my height, and blonde, said she was going to her hotel after some yogalates class bullshit (she had yoga pants on, which I can’t resist). Allegedly, she was an ambassador to some place in Africa, sounded legit, since DC has that sort of thing.
Not to make a novel out of this, but I got with her twice at her hotel that night (I carried 2 condoms, which is something you suggest in Bang), she made most of the moves – even said I was talking too much, and wanted anal. After the 2nd time, she went to get cleaned up, and walked me out. Tried to get her last name (for my records lol) but she wouldn’t tell me.
I called the 3 friends who ditched me earlier, and my little brother, after I left, because the whole thing felt surreal.
Anyway, keep up the good work
It’s sounds like in Iceland, it’s a waste of time to even go into bars and clubs. I’m guessing you should just show up on the main drag at closing time and approach on the streets?
The last time some chick randomly approached me on the street, she followed me to a bar where I foolishly hit on the hotter bartendress. Bitch stormed out & tried to stiff me with her tab, LOL.
That was good…
You are not understanding the meaning behind this story. Roosh made it clear that the scene in Iceland was completely different than anywhere else. You start approaching right before the bars are going to close because that’s when the girls begin to separate for the night. Compared with the States where you will acutally have to build attraction in a girl who may only have a passing interest in you initially.
LOL, amazing stuff! Although I’m sure that someone who didn’t have any game would have still fucked up things even despite being approached by an easy, down to fuck girl. After all, she still went ahead and tested you to see if you thought if you were a slut. Great job.
*she*. Funny typo.
8 “WOW…that really is an odd culture they have there. People talk about “hook up” culture in the US, but theirs is far more extreme. Wait on a bench, and a chick will come along and pick you up? Crazy. But also kind of cool!”
Lol what I thought
Roosh = God.
Roosh, I love your stories. I know most people are all about the game tips, but I usually skip that shit with the hopes that you post more of your adventure stories like from ADBIP. Keep ‘em coming.
Roosh,you are full of shit.You picked her up at six am but woke up again in the middle of the night to bang her again?
It would be midday.Get your story straight pal.
^ Anonymous, sunrise in Reykjavic in January is at 11:20am. 5h is plenty of time to jam it in again at “night.” Lighten up.
(Roosh: Actually during that time the sun didn’t come up until after noon.)
what’s the strategy behind saving the wrong number in your phone on purpose?
i don’t get it.
(Roosh: So she doesn’t think I dissed her. Note how rude she was when she originally thought that.)
“what’s the strategy behind saving the wrong number in your phone on purpose?”
So that u won’t end up over-valuing one girl who subconsciously or even consciously, you view as your backup plan; which would probably make u lazy when it comes to motivation to approach other girls.
Game is poker, not chess.
The point is game is about guys being able to present themselves and behave in a way that creates attraction in girls. Roosh failed to do that in all the girls he spoke to and then fell into a *fools mate* – some girl that was into his looks. This is an opposite-of-game post, and it could happen to anyone. Heck, I get picked up in bars every now and then. It just has nothing to do with game.
What I want to see is posts about how guys successfully create attraction in women who are not necessarily that into you to begin with- thats inspiring, not some dispiriting story about complete failure to get any girl attracted to you, and falling into a fools mate.
If I did not know from personal experience that game works, this story would have to go into the negative evidence bin. Whats annoying to me is that I am seeing more and more of these negative evidence bin stories around the game part of the net, and its disheartening. This is not what game is supposed to be about.
You call this guy a writer? I guess George Orwell is shitting himself. You guys are pathetic, you want to meet a girl?, say hello…..game, shiiite
Nice post. Is good to know about the failures when going to a new country and then by trial and error figure out how things work and how the game should be played in that particular arena. Shame some of the guys posting negatively seem that have never traveled or didn’t take geography classes at school … Keep it on man.
can you post a list of all the flags you have captured? You can be a reference to a lot of guys who are into traveling, wandering lifestyle
Damn! just like there is a huge gap between poor countries and rich countries, there is a huge gap in the sexual domain as well. Contrast a place like Saudi where most men will never get laid to someplace like iceland where everyone get’s laid and some get laid like champs. In some places sex is such a huge deal and in others it is just a way to relax or have fun. What a bloody contrast. Might as well be living in different planets for all one knows
dude, you should make an Approach App. It may help keep track of all of the variables involved in each encounter, and the mobility would make it easier to use than the Janka spreadsheet method.
Heh, bang iceland sounds like some kind of hipster joke. That being said, the whole chronicle is a great illustration of figuring out a new scene. A lot of self styled gurus out there try to write like they’re on some super hero type bullshit, when any real player knows that success with women is directly proportional to the ability to weather those times when hoes are acting like you’re the weakest thing since wet tissue.
The whole international reaction on the intertubes is a trip as well. Like a human rorschach. Be safe and stay sharp out there breh.
Loving the blog Roosh. Picked up a copy of Bang and will be buying a copy of Day bang soon.
another great story buddy, the girls you encounter and communicate with, props up for that, peace…
That´s some solid writing!
I like how you come out on top in the end!
Agreed. Roosh strikes me as an authentic chap — a man of the people battling his way to what he wants. Precisely the opposite effect of Citizen Renegade, who would never write about walking home dejectedly, and would have made the usual dodges and comebacks to keep his self-esteem well afloat.
” “We meet at night and have sex. Then we say goodbye the next morning and run into each other some other time.” ”
What natives believe of themselves is often exaggerated truth. I’ve read this of Swedes as well. As much as it stimulates my nervi erigentes to even contemplate being picked up by a Scandian pixie on the street, as national character this is just revolting, crossing into the purely canine. I know women select in any case, but this is too much — actually seems to negate one’s very humanity by reducing one to a walking prick. Which is probably related to the runaway success of feminism in the Nordic countries.
iceland where everyone get’s laid and some get laid like champs
More like chumps. Did you catch the subtext here?
You are a disgusting racist bastard, generalizing about entire population based on what is a small segment of the population you met over here. I am an Icelandic woman aged 29. I have had sex with two men for my entire life, both of whom I was engaged to (my ex boyfriend died). I was number 5 in a major beauty competition abroad, so it´s not like I couldn´t engage in this type of behavior if I wanted to. The more culture, and more numberous, Icelanders do not engage in this type of behavior. Those of us who do go to bars and pubs etc, only go to very few ones (only three qualify), where the type of person you described would not fit in. Enjoy your blood money. You make your fortune the same ways the nazis did by demaning entire population, generalizing about them and then profiting from it. There is only a difference in degree, and not in kind, about your actions and those of the Serbs, the KKK etc. You contribute to racism and intolerence in this world, you demean, debase and dehumanize entire populations, try to ruin their reputations, and so their chances of finding real love and respect in this world, since you encourage people to take advange of them. Most of the people who do behave the way you describe do so because they are alcholics with other serious issues. To take advantage of a person because he has an illness and a condition is entirely unethical. Those women would not have touched you without being that drunk, and the majority of women there would never touch you at all, I am afraid to say, and feel disgusted to the point of mild trauma, if they just shook their hand, knowing who you are. This is not a joke. I know this because I am a very popular person and very active in my community. I know Icelandic women from all walks of life and only about 2% of the ones I know would ever come near someone like yourself. I hope you enjoy your blood money which you gained from creating a worse future for the human race, one based on more disrespect, dehumanization and ethnic generalizations. I hope you can live with yourself. You should be very afraid to come here in the future. I don´t condone such behavior, but I am familar with a couple of rough types (men) who are extremely angry at you, through my work (I work in social services), because they fear the fate of their young sister, who is an alcholic 18 year old drug abuser who does frequent such bars, and that now more people will try to take advantage of her, but she is already traumatized because of having gone home with men so drunk she could hardly remember it the next morning, an experience she herself personally experiences as rape and she is in extensive counseling because of this. One of these brothers spent some time in jail for physical assault already. I shouldn´t tell you this, because you do not deserve to be warned, but yes, your life really is in danger. I would be more worried about the afterlife to be honest if I were you. You have created seriously bad racist karma for yourself.
To clarify a little, by only 2% of them ever coming near you, I mean you when you were here to begin with. A minority of women here does engage in this type of behavior, this is true, most of them because of a serious illness called alcholism combined with certain mental conditions. Anyone without serious mental disturbances, and a great deal of selfhatred, would ever approach you knowing you wrote such a racist book. And that doesn´t just include Iceland, that goes for the rest of the world. A sane, ethical human being will not approach you after this for the same reason you wouldn´t want to be with someone who wrote a book on how to abuse and take advantage of your sister and your mother. This is because the majority of the human race do realize, unlike yourself, that we are all brothers and sisters, and there is nothing of greater value than the life and happiness of a fellow human being. You have set dosen´s of substance abusing young teenager up for trauma and rape (most rape cases treated in Iceland did happen while the victim was too drunk to know what she was doing…and in nearly all cases the rapist claim they failed to realize this. They still go to jail though, because nobody believes such people, except nazi type people such as yourself.
One world – One humanity – Leave Icelandic women alone!
Bitch, you need to chill…
Love the comment from the Icelandic girl! Roosh, you go boy!
I also think its hilarious that she sees this as a “race issue”. I think 99% of the intended audience of this book considers Icelanders to be “white” and deserving no special classification.
…an experience she herself personally experiences as rape and she is in extensive counseling because of this.
I would not take the hyper-sensitivity of someone who thinks it’s OK to classify rape as something someone “herself personally experiences” too seriously.
Another funny thing about women who threaten men with the violence of their male associates is that it’s mostly implausible. Any guy who will take orders from a woman like this is a pussy who is trying to bang her, and thus not a particularly threatening kind of guy, or if such a guy is genuinely threatening then he probably isn’t taking orders from any woman.
trying to bang her by supplicating to her and doing what she says*
That’s a funny comment. I am surprised she made this into a race issue. Never been there, but I thought most people are white in Iceland?
I don’t get the generalizing bit. This book is about how to get maximum amount of sex while in Iceland. That by definition means you focus on girls who want to fuck random dudes. Is the girl upset that Roosh did not write about how should one go about banging all other types of women in Iceland as well? :D
I don’t get the bad karma bit as well. This book is intended for an audience who will want to have a lot of sex in Iceland. So if the book is nicely written, then those guys would be thanking Roosh. Doesn’t that mean good karma? And what the fuck does racist karma even mean?
But seriously, I think Roosh you should write an article on the top 10 hate comments you have received. I am willing to bet this one would be right up there with the best. How many people have compared you to Nazis, KKK and the Serbs before, and threatened to hire the mafia to beat you up! :D
Well, we’ll see how how loudly she yelps about racism when the leering Somalis show up on her street corner.
“You have created seriously bad racist karma for yourself.”
Jesus, that’s funny. SERIOUSLY BAD RACIST KARMA.
Repeat that aloud, under your breath if necessary.
~**SERIOUSLY BAD RACIST KARMA**~ /cutesiedoom
All the Bjorks back there need to STFU.
Wow. 29-year-old cunt just made Iceland look 100x worse than Roosh ever could have. lol
If they had sunny beaches in Iceland, there would be none of this hate.
You know 48-49 just adds more proof that white women are both nuts and precisely what’s wrong with Western Civilization.
[...] was putting the drink down. All the times I was eating at 2 am in the morning after the bar, Roosh was on some street in Iceland putting in work. All the times I [...]
Roosh, most guys of our generation get out and travel at some point, and anyone who has done it knows that it’s easier to get laid overseas than at home because of the adventure factor for the girl and also her comfort in knowing that none of her friends need to find out so her reputation is safer. If you are reasonable looking, confident,friendly and willing to make a move when the time is right, you will get laid.
Your talk of “game” is just some masturbatory bullshit you have made up to convince yourself and others that you know more about something than they do.
Read your own blog man, you are basically advising people to hang around outside bars at closing time and hit on every drunk girl they see in the hope one is too plastered to see you for the slimy piece of shit you are and go home with you. Pretty creepy dude.
And for the even more pathetic guys who are actually reading this trying to get tips on how to get laid, here’s what you do: Engage in activities that will put you into a positi0n where you are interacting with a lot of women on a social level, for every 20 or so women you meet and become casual friends with, you will meet 1 that you have a definite spark with, that is the girl you should make a move on, not any of the others. Hanging around outside bars hitting on drunk chicks will eventually just get you beaten up or dragged into court on a rape charge, because if a girl is too shitfaced to know what she is doing, it’s rape.