All posts by Roosh

A Day At The Pool

I don’t like swimming pools. I know not everyone cleans their ass as well as I do. But swimming a few laps works my body more than running, and water offers less resistance than concrete pavement.

The kids always take up the swim lane so I wait until the 15-minute rest period to get in the water. Today there were two women still hanging around in my lane, and since it was quiet I could hear them talking. They were speaking Portuguese, and most likely from Brazil.

I watched while I waited. One had to be in her 40’s, slowly wading through the lane getting just a bit of exercise, while the other, much younger, was still. She put her back against the concrete wall and placed her arms behind on the ledge, pushing her breasts out. I did want to see more, and I had the perfect excuse.

I moved slowly down the lane to where they were, slowly only because that’s how it is when you walk in water. Looking at both I said, “Mind if I share the lane so I can swim a couple laps?” There was silence. Maybe they don’t speak English, I thought, and I was ready to mime the act of swimming so they’d understand. But the older woman spoke. “Oh she doesn’t speak English. Sure go ahead.”

“Are you two from Brazil?”

“Yes we are.”

I told them I recognized the language, said a couple words that any gringo who has been to Brazil would know, smiled, and then went back to the other side of the pool to start my swim.

The concept is so logical but yet so foreign to me: meeting people in the neighborhood. That’s how most of the teenagers did it, anyway. I was always so focused on bars and clubs that god knows how many opportunities I missed right in front of my doorstep.

I did five brisk laps before I got tired and stopped at the other end of the pool, where the two Brazilians were already settled. I was right next to the older woman, and I don’t remember who started talking first, but it started. About her country, my country, marriage, life, food, girls, guys. Our observations about American culture were similar and not so positive, but we agreed that it’s easier to have a comfortable life here. You don’t need to be rich to have a car, apartment, a million channels and the like. We talked for one hour, the sun baking me much more than her light brown skin.

She told me so many funny stories that my cheeks became sore from laughing. One was about the younger girl wading nearby, the daughter of a close friend, who came to the U.S. only a couple months ago. Fresh off the boat, uncorrupted, and shy to speak the little English she knows. Her first day in this family pool she wore a thong bikini, got in the water, and was too embarrassed to come back out after catching everyone’s attention. “You know Brazilians, we don’t like clothes,” the woman said. Yes, I know.

The younger one had the Brazilian ass, of course—seemingly muscular, with a cute young face, long hair, and smooth olive skin. She’s from Florianopolis, if you happen to know the south of Brazil. I’d be surprised if she was over 22 or so, but I never asked. While I was talking to the older woman the girl got in my field of view. She pinched her nose and then leaned backwards into the water. She came back up and slowly wiped the water from her hair with her hands. The sun was shining so strong I could only see the outline of her face. But It was beautiful nonetheless. She was beautiful. I tried to pretend I wasn’t affected.

The older woman kept saying that I need to teach the girl English, and in exchange she will teach me Portuguese. I suggested that would be a fine idea, but was careful not to appear too eager. She could start teaching me numbers, I said, so I can understand when the clerk at the Brazilian store nearby tells me how much I owe. The woman even told me their address, telling me to stop by anytime.

If nothing comes of this it won’t be for lack of effort. I already know how I’m going to do it. I’m going to buy a two liter bottle of Guarana from the Brazilian store and take it to their place. They will invite me in, minutes will turn into hours, and if there is some attraction the rest will be inevitable. That’s how I imagine it anyway.

It seems cliche almost. Brazilian girls, sensual, sexual, open, different, warm. But my experiences do not lie. I know what is in store for me if I knock on that door. Some cultures build their women for men, and some do not.


Research your bank and make sure you are covered by FDIC. If you have over $100,000 in any bank you are crazy. Remember that small, seemingly safe local banks invested heavily in commercial real estate that is also collapsing. Spread your risk and follow the news. If I had money in WaMu or Wachovia right now I’d take it to another bank because I don’t like waiting in lines.

Ten people you’ll find at a bar, including “the sunglasses at night guy” and the guy who “got off work four hours ago, but is still in his suit and tie.”

Jack Goes Forth is becoming a very pleasurable read as he finds his voice.

Meet Wayne Gerdes, a “hypermiler” who can get over 100 mpg fuel efficiency in an unmodified hybrid. He turns off the car while on the road and drafts tractor trailers, among other techniques.

“We’ve been getting a free ride on the global gravy train. Other countries are starting to reclaim their resources and goods, so as Americans are priced out of various markets, the rest of the world is going to enjoy the consumption of goods Americans had previously purchased. This is a natural consequence of this phony economy.”

Blogger Jeff Simmeron started an internet war with a local coffee chain. If his name sounds familiar it’s because he came to a couple blogger happy hours that Kathryn hosted, where he would pass out business cards with his blog on it. I thought it was a neat idea, but others disagreed. How much I miss Kathryn’s events.

Chart of virginity rates among college students according to major. Mathematics and chemistry majors are the big losers. One word: Communications.

Email Newsletter

I just passed 1,000 subscribers to my game newsletter. I’ve diverted time away from the blog to work on the mailings so that’s one reason I post less. New subscribers will get the old newsletters until they eventually get caught up with the new ones. You can sign up on the newsletter page.

Content on the blog is more mainstream / fun while the newsletter is just about pick up.

How To Pick Up Girls For Under $100 A Month

When I had a job I’d spend over $500 a month to pick up girls in bars and clubs to take them out on dates. That $500 amount is now my entire budget for the month but my horniness has not ebbed. How do I continue getting laid while living in a suburban desert without opportunities for daytime game?

Here’s how I do it…

1. Clubs are out. They’re just too pricey, even if you get in for free. With a basic vodka drink at $8 you’re looking at spending at least $40 just to get your ears blasted while repeating “What did you say?” all night long to chicks who wish they were Lindsey Lohan. It’s a stupid waste of money, especially if you’re game is talking instead of dancing. It’s important to be a competent dancer but if you are the old guy in the club your supreme dancing skills will be seen as weird and creepy instead of attractive.

2. Weekend game is out. I can’t deny that most girls I’ve laid are from ones I’ve met on the weekend, but is it because the girls who go out on the weekend are easier or because most of the nights I’ve gone out on happen to fall on the weekend? I’m not entirely sure, but let’s face it: weekends are amateur nights, for people who do nothing during the week except work and watch TV. By Friday they are way too excited to go all-out and get sloshed with a group of friends to half-ass the mating dance. When midnight strikes all the girls will be less receptive they should be (based on their quality) because they have been hit on by too many guys in a short period of time.

At the end of a weekend night 98% of all participants fail in their goal to get laid or pair bond. The puffed up jockeying of the guys and the wannabe celebrity attitudes of the girls are replaced with the fascinating late-night feeding behavior, a relatively new phenomenon not seen in our parents time. The herd begins to eat pizza, cheeseburger, gyros, and sometimes falafel, to fill their empty tummies of loneliness and failure. Many will walk out of these eating establishment with grease running halfway down their face.

Weekdays have a more laid back crowd making it easier to meet someone, with fewer guys humping a girl’s leg because of liquid courage and less girls who think they have more options than the zero options they actually have. I met a girl during the weekday at a bar and even though she was a regular she told me I was the first guy who ever approached her there. Maybe she was lying, maybe not, but my point remains.

A downside of weekday bar game is that there are fewer girls, but this is quickly compensated by approaches that are far more likely to result in a loooong conversation. You’ll have to approach two girls to get something instead of five or more on a weekend. I found a Tuesday bar that has given me bountiful fruit from just a couple visits.

Also weekdays are cheaper if you take advantage of a happy hour’s tail end. My average cost for a weeknight is $20, while for a weekend it’s $40. All else being equal do the weekends produce double the results or fun? No, they don’t. If you can find a nice bar on Monday through Wednesday then you are set, but take care on Thursday nights because those tend to be stupid college girl night.

3. Public or bicycle transportation. Cars are ridiculously expensive. You have the car payment, insurance, maintenance, upkeep (tires, battery, windshield wipers), car washes, parking tickets, DUI arrests, and gas. Even if I take taxis everywhere it’s still cheaper than owning a car. But there are two problems with public transportation:

– During the weekday the subway stops early at midnight, so I’m stuck with a hefty cab ride if I decide to ride out the night until 2am closing. This means I have to start very bright and early at 8pm, a time when things are barely getting started. (Solution: Feel out the vibe when the clock hits 11:30am, when you should know if sweet fruit will be obtained or not. Always stay flexible, like a ballet dancer.)

– Pre-drinking is a no go. If the bus ride takes an hour, drinking at home and just sitting on the bus for an hour will destroy your buzz. It will not be as good when you eventually start drinking again at the bar. (Solution: Don’t use alcohol as a crutch to talk to girls. This is something you should be working on long term.)

4. Start your dates at events, not bars. This happened by accident. In my quest to be a cultured man of the world I looked for events like the Greek Festival or European Embassy Open House. There is a lot of substance for fun conversation and you can cap it off with a couple drinks at a cheap neighborhood bar. She won’t care you took her to a dump because you were so original with your date idea. Here you are looking at a $20 date instead of the automatic $60-80 date if you take her to nice lounges like Topaz or Chi-Cha Lounge. By the way, did you know there are still guys taking girls out to dinners? Haha morons.

A good place to find events is the Events tab on Yelp which spoon feed you a wide variety of things to do. In effect you are outsourcing your date ideas, but the girl has no idea and your creativity score will shoot through the fucking roof.

The end result is I spend a third of what I used to spend but I go out less and get laid much more. The get laid more is due to factors besides the scope of this post (continually improving game, for example), so it’s possible your mileage from only going out one weekday a week will hurt your results unless you’re already at a certain level. Another downside is that it will take quite a bit of time investment to find a good weekday spot. You’ll have to experiment.

Every time a buddy calls me on Saturday night to see if I’m staying in to write and drink beer alone there is that moment when I almost say yes, but then I remember the amateurs and ugly white girls who spend so much time to look good only to wear cheap flip flops. How about Tuesday night?

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

Vicious Gang Beach Brawl

From a TV show called World’s Most Amazing Videos. Even the girlfriends get involved.

MONDAY MORNING CUBICLE CHALLENGE: Watch the entire video without laughing or smiling or giggling…

Women’s Magazines

Via Scholarly Reading:


I’m pro-women’s magazines because it makes girls so insecure and wrapped up in their own world of perceived flaws and lacks that they never notice my flowing ear hair, which I let shed naturally.


Re: You’re Not A People Person

After yesterday’s post a reader forwarded me an email from her friend that describes what I was talking about. To refresh your memory here is what I wrote:

Any “people person” would start getting very uncomfortable if the guy on the bus next to you starts hacking away his flem or reeking of body odor or having a loud, profanity-laden fight on the phone. Riding the subway with a rude group of kids causing a ruckus is an event that educated people must tell anyone that will listen.

The email:

I’m just getting settled in. Oh my god it was the ride from hell. First off, getting stopped by cops, put us off by a good 15 minutes. Then, I have a metal chunk of crap where my feet are to sit, and a morbidly obese man squirming not to touch me next to me. This means I get half my seat. He is generating a lot of body heat.

Stopover. Smelly looking tree planters exchange notes on their equipment, some guy tries and fails to pick the hippie girls up. Everyone’s standing outside to get the best seat, mosquitoes are going crazy, it’s raining. There are tons of fat people wandering in from *****, mullets and bleached blond hair. I contemplate asking one of the skinny tree hugger girls to sit next to me.

I chuck someone’s water bottle down the aisle under the chairs, and take a window seat, only to discover two large native men peering at me. I’ve taken their seats, and chucked their water bottle. A skinny man that looks like a gold digger from the Klondike demands to know if I was on before, and how it is I forgot my seat. I take a new seat, slink down, and stare intently at my ticket.

A girl sits beside me. Next to her, four African men reeking of cologne. They talk for the next 10 hours straight in a language that sounds like a swamp bubbling. Behind me, two native men reeking of booze and cigarettes. “With my luck, we’ll hit a tanker truck.” “With mine, we won’t.” Something starts banging under my chair, loud, at random. Then my seat starts to wobble. The natives suspect the wheel axis is coming off, and that the wheel is going to fly off the bus. They then FALL ASLEEP. I pop two codeines and eventually have to tell the driver something funny is going on. We stop in parry sound for tim’s and he looks at it, for a second. I figure I’ve done all I can to prevent my death here.

The african men get off at ******. Their luggage is not on the bus. They start bellowing and lunging at the driver, who yells back. Everyone is looking out the window, and it looks like we might have a fight on our hands after 10 hours in the bus. Driver gets on and closes the door.

A man in the back coughs a deep cough from his lungs, then swallows his snot. Someone tells him to cover his mouth when he does that. TB TB TB. I run to the front of the bus near *******, open my own coach luggage door and grab my luggage. I hurl myself into a cab before those slugs have even stirred from their slumber.

The email had complaints about body odor, flem, and fighting, among others. Eerie coincidence or validation that what I speak of is real absolute truth?

I’m positive the email came from a woman who is pro-environment, anti-war, hyper educated, a voracious reader, has donated to the Sally Struthers aid program, owns or considers owning a hybrid, and who considers herself a lover of people. Yet if a plumber in her home or a polite bus driver engaged her in conversation she wouldn’t know what to say, and that’s the issue with educated First World inhabitants who wrap themselves up in the cocoon and have no knowledge or experience of people not like them.

Next month… You’re Not As Open Minded As You Think.

You’re Not A People Person

I was talking to someone about public transportation and he made a comment about how he doesn’t like taking the bus because there is a lot of crazy people on it. Take note that he was a city dweller where bus patrons tend to be more educated with proper jobs that that make mom proud. Here in the suburbs you’re lucky if the person sitting next to you has a high school education and can speak English, though that is changing before my eyes as gas prices shoot through the roof. Call me a suburb bus pioneer, if you will.

Here’s the thing about your life right now. You get up in the morning, go in your car cocoon shell (or ride the subway with people like you who have jobs that took an interview longer than ten minutes to get), go to work with other smart people, go to the gym with health conscious people, shop at Trade Joes or Whole Foods where everyone knows what a trans fat is, and then go to the bar or club with more educated or smart people (though rarely beautiful since this is Washington DC we’re talking about). Well that’s not reality.

typical-house.jpgThe humans you are interacting with on a daily basic or a tiny subset of the range of humans that exist. The majority of humans alive today are stupid, dirty, poor, or batshit insane. The only time you catch a glimpse of this is when a homeless person asks you for spare change but living in a wealthy city makes these encounters the anomaly instead of the rule. The human existence is miserable, desolate, brutish, and until recently, short. Remember: the United States is a rich country and most countries of the world are not rich, especially ones that are heavily populated. And let’s be honest, 99.9% of you have never been out of North America besides some Caribbean beach resort for Spring Break.

The point is that you like people less than you think you do, especially if you claim to be a “people person,” something I hear occasionally, usually from a woman who works in PR or human resources. Any “people person” would start getting very uncomfortable if the guy on the bus next to you starts hacking away his flem or reeking of body odor or having a loud, profanity-laden fight on the phone. Riding the subway with a rude group of kids causing a ruckus is an event that educated people must tell anyone that will listen.

You’re only similar to the 0.000001% of the human population that is clean and educated like you and who has the embarrassment filter that prevents any acting up in public or doing anything someone educated would deem weird or strange. Accept that you hate people and if a monster tsunami wiped out another 200,000 people in Southeast Asia you’d be annoyed that news coverage preempted your favorite television show, The Bachelor.

You disgust me.

Creepy Or Loving?

I was sitting down on the subway car thinking of making a play on a Turkish girl to my left. I knew she was Turkish because she was speaking Turkish with her two friends before they cheek kissed her goodbye and made a loud exit like only Turks know how. But she had a Blackberry and a slight resemblance to my wonderful Turkish mother, so I decided to inspect my fingernails instead to see if they needed trimming.

At the next stop two guys and two girls came onto the train. They paired off as they sat and all seemed like just friends. I’m not an expert on body language but at 29 I think I know if two people are fucking or not. They held my attention, partly because I was done looking at my fingernails but also because of their exceptionally clear Spanish. Their minimal use of slang and clear enunciation told me they definitely were not from dirty Mexico or Central America. Maybe they were from Colombia, I thought.

This was the last midnight train, and they were tired. Judging by their backpacks it looked like they studied at some library followed with a trip to some Washington DC forest to blaze. The girls rested their heads on their respective guy. The first guy put his arm around his girl and just let it hang there. They both closed their eyes. Go to sleep.

unrelated-picture.jpgThe second girl had her eyes closed on the second guy’s chest as well, but his eyes were opened. He was looking at the top of her head and stroking her hair, slowly and deliberately like she was a gentle flower with fine petals that easily come off. He would not take his eyes off her head. Just staring at her black hair covered skull. He did this for the next twenty minutes, stroking and touching and looking while she did not respond in any way. If I had to take a guess as to what he was thinking, it would be “If she ever leaves me I’m going to kill her and her family.” It was one of the creepiest things I’ve ever seen in my life, second only to an internet video I was tricked into watching of a grown man having sex with a horse. Actually I wasn’t tricked, I was curious, like any normal, well-balanced human being would be when presented with the opportunity to watch such an intriguing perversion of nature.

Physical affection is important in a healthy relationship, but it’s not natural to pet an unconscious girl who isn’t aware of your petting. The only exception is if the girl is in a coma and you are trying to bring her back to life. Creepy guys tend to be beta males, living absurd fantasies in their head because they can’t do it in real life until one day it comes out in a subway car and is noticed by an astute observer taking mental notes because he refuses to buy an iPod. It just didn’t add up to me that this beta male was in the position to stroke the head of a beautiful girl that I would personally get with in a heartbeat. It went against everything I have learned and experienced in the past seven years. I’ll get over it, I thought—this is just the exception and I shouldn’t change my world view just for this haunting display of affection.

Turns out that that won’t even be necessary.

When they all got up at their stop a surprise switch occurred. The girls held hands of the opposite guy as they walked off the train. Are they all just fuck buddies who swap partners like in an obese swingers farm or are they all just childhood friends? I don’t have to change shit. They’re just friends.

Video Of Girls Getting Brazilian Waxes

Vaguely erotic..

Interesting Tattoo

“I totally want to get a tattoo. I know it has become a trend but I designed one on my own and feel like it would make me unique and not just another face in the crowd and it would even motivate me to keep my body in shape because if I get fat then the tattoo would probably look different you know? I’m a sexual person, definitely spiritual, a lover of nature, and I even write poems. I mean like guys always listen carefully when I read my poems to them and they compliment me on how good they are written. So now I read them my poems on the first date so they can get to know me faster and we can skip all that lame dating bullshit and go right into knowing each other. God I made the best design ever. I can only imagine the faces of the guys who make love to me from behind when they see it, and I’m sure they will love it and realize that I’m a prize as a woman and not all those other boring girls who are even too scared of a needle and who just want to fit in with their boring sun dresses and flip flops. I’m not like them at all because I’m an individual.”


Sex With Full Sized Girls

I used to prefer sex only with petite girls, but now I’m proud to say I enjoy sex with a wide variety of body types.

With a petite girl I like how her small size makes me look big and how she is easier to maneuver, but small girls mean small vaginas so I usually have to take it easy. I can’t just pound away with impunity and many times I will get comments about going too deep or too fast. I dislike it when my stroke is disturbed but I understand it has to feel good for the girls too.

With a bigger girl, and I mean a more curvy and full figured woman and not BBW, man I can pound away and she’ll still want it harder than I can provide. There is nothing more humbling than when a girl says “Fuck me harder” and I am fucking her as hard as I possibly can. Full figured women are also less inhibited than fragile petite girls (for reason I don’t understand), so things do get nice and sloppy even if moving her around takes more verbal commanding. After sex with a petite girl the room smells like the candle she is burning. After sex with a bigger girl the room smells like her vaginal juices which got all over both of our bodies.

Another advantage of the bigger girl is their vaginas are looser. Having sex with a tighter than a vice Asian girl and my resulting three minute orgasm time has led me to believe that guys who want tight vaginas has not had unprotected sex before. Of course I don’t want to be swimming in there but the longer it takes me to reach orgasm the better that orgasm is. Plus I’ll be be perceived as a champion in the bedroom. If you gave me a choice between a tight vagina and a loose vagina, I’d pick the loose vagina every time.

Petite girls are like flowers and for girlfriend lovemaking this would be a sound choice, but there is nothing like the possibility of banging a girl with a gigantic meaty ass to get me excited about going out on a date. When I’m especially horny and masturbation is not working only this type of body type can satisfy my craving. Even fat girls I don’t mind pleasuring once a year as long as she has a cute face. I mean I didn’t spend all that time mastering my game just to have sex with one very specific type of girl. If you like sex, you like sex.

6 Months In South America In 5 Minutes

Previous Videos:

I put together my favorite photos from the trip, picked some mood music, and turned it into a video. Some photos you’ve seen, some you haven’t. It’s separated into three parts, mostly in chronological order.

I: Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Chile
II: Argentina (mostly Cordoba)
III: Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay (dead bat), Brazil (mostly Rio)

6 Months In South America In 5 Minutes from Roosh V on Vimeo.

I think it captured the true essence of the trip.