All posts by Roosh

When Too Many Girl Options Is Bad

random-skanks.jpgAbout a month ago I went out like any other Friday night with one male friend. I dressed like how I normally dressed and barely drank. By the time the night was over I got four phone numbers. The unusual thing about this is I talked to six or seven girls during the entire night. 60% conversion rate from approaches is a superstar number and does not typically happen. One number or make-out from four or five approaches is more of what I experience.

The following Monday I had a total of six numbers to call (two were older) and with so many choices I didn’t particularly care which ones I got out. So I called them one by one. Two answered and for the ones that didn’t I left messages.

Fast forward one week later. The entire pool was whittled down to two girls I was still talking to. I thought about it a little more and concluded they weren’t even that cute, so I stopped calling both of them. So nothing happened with any of those girls.

Two weeks after that brouhaha, I met a pretty Brazilian girl at a bar. This was around the time before the Las Vegas trip when I barely went out to save money. But we’re still talking (and texting), and the initial connection I had with her was superficially less than most of the girls from the four number fest.

Looking back the previous couple years, nothing happened when I had a boatload of new numbers. I get laid by focusing on a girl and making it work, not blasting with a shotgun and hoping I hit something. That inefficient robot game doesn’t work because you simply don’t have the time or energy to work on the huge number of girls to get such paltry results. It’s necessary for some guys starting out but in the long run you’ll burn out and swear off the game forever.

Having options is good up to a point, but then with too many options you actually start getting less. You’re like a kid in a candy store and you’re too excited to make firm decisions. So you really have to do care about these girls, at least a little bit, or else you won’t bother to take it to the next level. But then if you care a tad too much you’ll get nothing either. The game is an unforgiving beast.

Read Next: 7 Things You Can Do To Improve Your Game Right Now

Hooker Spotting In Las Vegas

The guy who looked most like a bitch had the hottest bitch in the bar. He was a short aging rocker with eyeliner and long stringy hair and a lip piercing and was almost more feminine than his girl. From ten feet away I could not spot a flaw in her appearance.

There was a hooker with a going price of $500. If the first question out of their mouth is “Where are you staying?” then you know they are a hooker. Problem with spotting hookers is that every other non hooker-girl dresses like a hooker too. With the help of a can of hair spray, four inch heels, blonde dye, dim lighting, and a black cocktail dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, 6’s were now 8’s. A gallon of makeup can hide just about anything and any girl who wasn’t morbidly obese could elevate herself into hot girl status. All for just a few hours of work.

The only purpose of Las Vegas is to part a man from his money. (Fyi I lost $300 at blackjack). Men literally lined up to part themselves from their money at the casino clubs, begging to grease the bouncer to enter in addition to paying a $30 or more cover charge. Even guys who are dropping hundreds or thousands on tables had to wait in line.

highroller.jpgThe first night I went to Body English club at Hard Rock with my partner in crime. The girls were friendly and opening was easier than back at home. The hottest girls I talked to since South America would maintain eye contact with me and smile as I talked. But conversations didn’t last as long as I liked. Sometimes it was just a standard cockblock but other times the girls would excuse themselves to some guys table to get free drinks. More than half the club was dedicated to table service. It seemed like every guy was throwing alcohol their way and besides that the only game I saw here was tatted up body builders wearing Affliction t-shirts.

Second night we went to Blush lounge in the Wynn Hotel, a place some Wall Street trader told me was “the most superficial place in the world.” He said I don’t belong there and I agreed, but this was the special Vegas weekend and I had to party like a rockstar or something. When it comes to slowly losing my money at the $10 blackjack table or hanging out in a club with rich and beautiful idiots, the decision is hard.

I got a couple numbers from the friendlier club girls but I knew nothing would happen. Same night or bust. Plus girls had a “one for all, all for one” mentality (no soldier left behind). Hope of easy sex grew dim until we were led to the bar inside Hard Rock’s casino. There was no line, no cover, no loud music, and an interesting mix of UFC wannabes, hookers, fake breasts, local girls, and out of towners. A fascinating place where every girl wore high heels instead of flip flops.

It was four of us now. The shots were big and by 4am one guy got kicked out and puked in front of the lobby and another was sleeping in the garage. A stunning and gentle 18-year-old named Kylie stuck by my side until her “cool” mom took her away, a 30-year-old woman blonde lawyer from LA who said I was “mainstream but trying not to be mainstream” found out about the Turkish kiss, and a 47-year-old attractive Italian woman wanted to bang me. Even at 4am there was still fresh girls rolling in from whatever shithole club they went to, probably the one that, believe it or not, had the slogan Status Is Everything.

By the the time the sun was coming up it was just me and a gutter slut with some sort of beret hat. She was talking her head off and I all I could do was nod and say “Yeah?” because I was trying to not vomit on her face. I don’t know if I didn’t get the urge to take my camera out of my jean pocket because she was a monster or because I didn’t remember having a camera in my pocket, but she definitely was not one of those model chicks I saw on the arms of wealthy looking guys that zip right into the club and make me question the starving artist lifestyle. Either way thank god what happens in (…)

Climbing over fences, clenching wet napkins at the blackjack tables, escaping in the morning, lost walking through a Sam’s Club parking lot, sharing a bed with another man, disappointment the adorable big-eyed girl is a hooker and not really into me, one and a half meals a day, stealing other people’s drinks, not getting into the club, getting into the club, perma-hangover, and being reminded why I stopped playing poker, the most boring card game on earth. Seven days was too much.

Texting Your Way To Love

Funny on-topic video…

Texting your way to love (

Is The Age Of Calling Girls On The Phone Coming To An End?

I think we’re arriving to the point where girls, especially ones under the age of 25, are becoming reluctant and unable to pick up the phone to call a guy they feel positive but not crazy about. Even though text messaging costs more than sending data from the Hubble Telescope, our hyper-ADD and multi-task culture is becoming increasingly focused on meaningless bursts of communication focused around sentence fragments and abbreviations. This is especially jarring for guys like me approaching their 30’s who didn’t even send their first text message until two years ago.

It’s not too hard getting first dates now without even calling. I first did this in Argentina because of the language barrier but since then I’ve done it here too. For college kids this is common perhaps but for me it’s a revolutionary shift in game. It’s just surprising that a girl will go out with you when you put less effort into contacting her, yet the young ones actually prefer you text. In fact I’ve met quite a few girls who tell me specifically that texting is the best way to contact him. Our parents generation will be the last to have written love letters to share in semi-tearful moments some thirty years later.

A good way to get someone to commit is to make someone invest time and energy into you. This is why you meet some girls and they start asking you for little favors. I think they do this unconsciously—perhaps it’s genetic—but there is that escalating ladder of favors until next thing you’re at Zales buying her diamond earrings. To their unfortunate detriment women are now making it easier for guys to fuck them without putting in this crucial investment. I’m shaking my head at how they continue to dig their own spinster grave (Sex and the City movie is coming out soon!), but this is great for guys like myself who just want hot sex. I can only smile when I blast the same message on Monday to multiple girls I just met and get responses trickling in for just ten seconds of work.

There is still a need to have phone skills, but possibly not as much in the past. The end goal for guys is to find the easiest yet most efficient way to get girls out. I need to experiment a little more, but my hypothesis is it will depend on the girl’s age and the breeziness of your text message style.

Read Next: 7 Things You Can Do To Improve Your Game Right Now

A Taxi Driver From El Salvador

I went out to Fly recently for a birthday party, ironically on the day I criticized the idea of bottle service. If you don’t live in DC, Fly is one of those generic new clubs that push Grey Goose and orange juice behind velvet ropes. But I have to give the owners credit: the lounge has a cool airplane theme with very attractive flight attendant wait staff. The DJ was taking the crowd through a journey of 90’s hip hop and the bathroom was stocked with thick paper towels.

It’s all nice and good until you get to the patrons: 75% guys giving way too much power to the few girls, most of them were average at best. The hottest ones were dancing on couches with their hands on the fuselage shaking their asses for the men and their fresh barber cuts in the economy section. I noticed everyone is still taking cues from US Weekly and MTV on how to dress, look, and act, and other than my wingman there was no one I wanted to talk to. There wasn’t a single girl there who was worth my opener, something that takes motivation and follow through.

motorcycle-bolivia.jpgOne woman pulled me aside and asked if I was a soccer player. I went along and we talked for a couple minutes, but even in the dim lightning I could tell she wasn’t a day younger than 35. There was nothing wrong with her, but come on. I’m in my prime I shouldn’t have to converse with that. She should just grab my hand and lead me to the bathroom and be done with it. During the day time when the advantage is out of her favor I wouldn’t even notice her existence, but here she is getting plenty of attention.

I end up in Adams Morgan for a while until I decide to have a jumbo slice instead of the usual falafel. It’s been a year… and I see why: it was shit. The cheese came from a crate rejected by Papa Johns and the sauce was a sprinkling of the pale colored juice you drain out from a cheap can of tomatoes. This is the worst pizza I’ve ever eaten in my life. Even worse than the pizza in Bolivia, a place which doesn’t have a single Italian or whoever invented pizza to pass on critical pizza-making knowledge to a generation of pizza makers.

I’m alone and two girls share a table with me, savoring every bite of the worst pizza is the world. They kept saying how good it was. One of them has a look like she’s about to puke on my face and the other has a blob of grease on her half covered breast. Grease breast chatted with me for a couple minutes and asked me how it’s possible I’m single. Because I refuse to go out with girls like you. I felt like a jerk for even thinking it.

Everyone else is shoving dough in their mouth with eyes half closed and loving every minute of it. As I step outside I’m saved from stepping on a gigantic pool of red vomit, a waste of what I’m sure was a fine pasta meal. Twenty minutes later on the subway ride back home I hear a splash and turn around to see a man slumped over three seats away vomiting all over himself. A stupid slut I picked up in a club years back did the same thing but in my car. I remembered looking back and seeing a fountain of pink vomit eject from her mouth and land on her chest and then trickle it’s way to my seat. Americans are fucking disgusting.

I had to take a cab the rest of the way home. This driver was a talker. He asked me about my night and I told him how it’s getting harder to go out. You never think at 22 or 23 you’ll get older and become that guy that rather sit at the bar on a weekday and stare at the wall. Drinking some gold cachaca in a shot glass, making my own personal music mix and maybe getting an hour or two worth of work done is starting to seem more appealing. He asked me if I was an artist.

We talked about girls and he put me on the spot. He asked me to give him one tip that would help him out. It’s been two months since he’s even talked to a girl, and he told me a typical story of a girl he liked that he bought gifts for eventually getting into a relationship with someone else. The pressure was on to help this guy out, and I thought about it for a minute before I answered.

There has to be a point where you’re talking to a girl or interacting with her and you’re about to do something or say something and think… ‘I’m going to lose her.’ But you do it anyway.

He thought about it for ten seconds and thanked me. I hoped I made a difference, but I don’t know for sure. I doubt it.

I had conversations with maybe five girls during the course of the night. But the one with the taxi driver from El Salvador was by far the most interesting and the only one that put a smile on my face after it was done. I shook his hand and wished him luck.

Are You A Player?

Introducing the Are You A Player Quiz, with 21 questions that rate your game. Each question has an answer worth two points and usually one with one point. I also put in an easter egg question to make sure you are paying attention.

Your results will put you in one of four categories. To achieve the top category, you have to get pretty much everything right. At the end of the quiz I explain the correct answers. About 200 guys have taken the quiz so far (I announced it on the newsletter) and only four of them have achieved the top player rating. Good luck…

I am a man and would like to find out if I’m a player by taking this internet quiz, since I don’t already know.

Read Next: 7 Things You Can Do To Improve Your Game Right Now

Bike Ride Home

Many of you expressed interest a couple weeks ago in my 4AM bike rides home so I made a video about it. It’s just an honest look into a grown man riding his bike after a night of drinking.

What Happens If I Don’t Pick Up On A Friday Night from Roosh V on Vimeo.

Argentine Girls Are Weird

I just got a friend request on Facebook from a girl in Argentina I didn’t recognize. It took me a couple minutes to figure out who it was.

In December I hit on this Argentine girl in a Buenos Aires club for a couple hours. We exchanged emails midway through but later on she disappeared on me when I went to get a drink. I didn’t email her obviously. Turns out she added my email to her address book, never emailed me, but used the “friend friender” to beef up her new Facebook page. Whatever… *accept*.

After five months of reflection I’m ready for a round two with the Argentines.


Shoulda banged on that bed. I’m a disgrace.

Nightclub Bottle Service

Steve sent me an excellent link called Bottle Service: America’s Nightlife Nightmare

In the 2000’s we have seen a corporatization of nightclubs. Now when you go to a nighclub everyone is some kind of corporate jerkoff. Interesting people are no longer found in Nightclubs. The artists, writers, intellectuals, underground DJ’s etc have been effectively priced out of the nightclub with bottle service. The only people that can afford it are the Investment bankers, real estate types, and Celebs (and of course, underworld figures). That is why when you walk into a club you see so many striped shirts that you think you are seeing some kind of 3-D optical illusion. The funny thing is that these are the type of guys who would have never gotten into a club in the old days (nights) when you were picked out because of how you looked, dressed, if you had connections, or by reputation. So today, clubs are full of people that normally would have been standing in line in nights gone by.

optical-illusion.jpgGo read the whole thing.

I was daydreaming the other week about what I would do if I pulled $20,000 a month. I fantasized about going to the hottest DC club of the moment and dropping a grand on two bottles of Grey Goose. I’d invite my friends and we’d drink and one of these glamorous DC girls would come by my table and flirt with me and I’d pour her a super strong one. Then maybe I’d get laid after taking her out to dinner and she may even return my calls for a second performance and a meaningful relationship. It would be all be so real and beautiful.

But you know what? I couldn’t look at my face in the mirror if I had a cost per notch in the four digits. Shit, even three digits. My cost per notch this year is… I swear to God… under twenty bucks. When you know the real value of pussy it makes absolutely no sense to overpay. It’s like taking your car to the dealership for repairs.

If I was rich the only different thing I’d do is step up from rail vodka to Absolut. Like anyone can tell the difference between expensive vodkas once they’re mixed with juice anyway.

Worst Email I’ve Ever Received

Previously: Best Email I’ve Ever Received.

I’ve been hanging out at Lucky Bar on Thursdays lately because of their budget $2 mixed drink happy hour. I thought it would be a good place to invite this girl who initially emailed me to say she thought my blog was funny. She didn’t show up, but a few days after she sent me this email..

hey new friend. so i just moved and have been sans internet for the past week and it looks like i missed out on a super sweet happy hour special, and an opportunity for you to make a sorry attempt at getting into my pants. well if you and your posse are down for a do-over, i’ll see if i can make room for you this thursday.

I know she is just trying to be funny, but how can any self-respecting alpha reply to this email? Any type of reply would be admitting that yes, I indeed would have tried to make a sorry attempt to get into her pants. But that may not have been the case. A week before I got this email…

were you at lucky bar tonight….? I thought i saw a greasy haired fellow who looked like you.

She was just trying to be funny too, but that kind of makes me wonder how this type of “game” gets out there. It would me like writing, “Hey I saw your fine slutty ass last night at the bar but didn’t get a chance to get up on that booty heh.”

I’m not saying these two girls want to bang me, but what good does this type of tone accomplish? Am I laughing?

(I am definitely not smiling or laughing.)

Now here are emails from two different girls in Brazil that made me smile.

hahahahahaha.i loved the video!!!! i can see how busy you are! hehe


Here the summer is over… which doesn’t mean absolutely nothing!! It’s still sunny and hot 🙂 Tomorrow I’ll have an açai for you, ok?

Come on, it’s not that hard.



Postscript: It’s time to bring some reason into the discussion..

Just because the mermaid has a mouth doesn’t mean she is going to let you put something in it. Chance are though the seduction will be easy like in the tom hanks movie and you will get a blowjob here or there. But I don’t think it will be blowjobs on demand like most men are imagining. How about if she doesn’t have blowjob skill?

For the reverse mermaid, it is true that you have vagina and anus and since it’s controlled by a fish brain you can have access to it all you want through rape or whatever. But keep in mind when you have sex you have to hold onto her scaly skin. And she probably will smell like fish. You wouldn’t want to hit that everyday… though from the back maybe it’s easier.

The key point no one mentioned is that you will get very lonely. Assuming the mermaid speaks your language, you can keep yourself busy with her and maybe even develop something serious.

I pick A.

The Big Leagues

Here is a video I produced starring me, my little brother, and his school buddy. Safe for work…

Extreme Big League Competition from Roosh V on Vimeo.


The Seduction Bible is throwing a weekend retreat / seminar in the Dominican Republic this summer.

Mike and I believe that too much focus has been placed on becoming a pickup artist, and not enough focus has been placed on becoming the kind of man who naturally attracts women. We know that changing your life has to happen from the inside out. The only way to truly be happy and successful is to be “your best self.”

You can read about it here.

This is a nice change from the typical $1500 weekend “workshops” where you pay to watch some guy and his friends try to pick up girls in bars while they “push you into sets.”

In Cordoba I was thinking of throwing a weekend nightlife tour where you’d pay me to take you to the most crowded (annoying) clubs to drink and get brutally rejected by beautiful Argentine girls. When I go back I’ll see if there’s any demand for that.

Also, I did a guest post this weekend at TSB… When A Girl Picks Up The Phone.