PREVIOUSLY: Part 1

On a Thursday night I went to a club alone. In order to recapture the glory days where I was the approach machine, I decided to do ten solid approaches.

My first approach was on my ideal type of girl, but ten minutes in her friend dragged her to dance. I did more approaches, not because I wanted to get laid, but because I was supposed to hit ten. The alcohol wasn’t loosening me up and I was getting more withdrawn as the night went on. My opening line felt stiff. My mouth was actively moving but my brain had left the building and was waiting outside. I made it to eight approaches, kissed a girl I only got a half boner for, and left.

There’s no physical reason why I couldn’t do something that I’ve done dozens of times before, but the desire wasn’t there, even though I would have happily banged 50% of the girls present. I’m now only willing to work for a certain type of girl who I know can give me immense pleasure with minimal investment. Otherwise I have to be especially horny, something that may happen one or two nights a month.

—

I met Kamal once again at the lounge and he told me that the random girl who messaged him on Facebook the other night was coming with three other friends. They eventually arrived and his girl was the cutest. The second cutest wasn’t bad, but she didn’t want to chat and went with the other two to dance.

Kamal and his girl talked next to me and I could tell that he would get far based on how she was smiling and giggling at most things he said. I remembered when she took out her phone to text someone and he said, “Why are you texting me, I’m right here!” He never put out an arrogant vibe or displayed anger. He was a gentleman with style, something that plays very well in a country that lacks such men. He built the foundation with his logistics, personal attributes, and social circle investment, and could now cash it in for years to come. All he needs to do is show up. While he was talking to the girl, I was thinking about which parts of him I wanted to implement into my own game.

I did a handful of approaches but it was tough. In one of the snobbiest bars in Warsaw, the cold approach was getting me less mileage than even industrial Ukraine.

Kamal came up to me and said, “We’re going to a new club. I took a girl there yesterday and bought a bottle but she didn’t drink so they saved it for us tonight. We have to kill it.”

“But how about your girl?”

“She’s going to meet me later. She wants to spend time with her friends.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave her? It’s okay if you need to stay with her, I can find something to do.”

“No, it’s better I leave. I want to play around a bit and then meet her later.”

We went to the club and got to work on the vodka bottle. In the VIP section there were many guys older than me dressed in suits and smoking cigars. Opposing them were women in their late 20s who seemed like they would accept cash for sex. A couple of them had bobblehead body language, physically present but not mentally. The main crowd had average talent of somewhat older people.

I started talking to one of the club’s dancers, a privilege that the VIP access gave. She was surprisingly receptive, asking me questions and deflecting cockblocks from her fellow dancer friends. She went to dance and actually came back. I offered her a drink from Kamal’s bottle and she accepted, later inviting me to dance. I tried to touch, a suitable move after our 30 minute conversation, but she pulled back and said, “I need space.” I replied, “I’ll give you space” then walked away.

She came back to me later, a huge sign of interest, but there would be no extraction on this night. My need to stay in one city was now stronger than ever. The optimum strategy of scoring top talent was being painted in my head with three colors: game, residency, and local value. As long as I only had one, I would always have to work.

After killing the bottle, we stumbled out of the club and walked to another. Kamal eventually got the text from his girl and left. I went home not long after, alone.

—

The next afternoon we met at a café to review the night. I said, “Now before you tell me what happened, I’m going to guess that you came close to banging but didn’t get quite there. It seemed like it would take one more date.”

“When I went to the club she was at, she was dancing with another guy.”

“Uh oh.”

“But then when she saw me, she immediately stopped dancing and came to me. She didn’t look at the guy again. We danced for a little while and I asked her if she wanted to come over for a drink. She said she wanted to but that her friend was drunk and needed to come with us. I said, ‘I wouldn’t mind hanging out with your friend, but I just had the maid clean my apartment and I don’t want her puking in it. I can tell she doesn’t look well.’ She asked what she could do. ‘Let’s put her in a cab. It’s the best thing for her.’ The three of us went outside and we shoved her in there.”

“Cockblock disabled, nice.”

“Yes. Then we went to my place. I made drinks but on the couch she was playing really hard to get, like she didn’t want to kiss me.”

“Did you kiss before?”

“Not much, just short kisses.”

“That’s not good.”

“Yeah, so I told her, ‘Look you need to open up, you’re being cold and I don’t like that.’ And then finally she kissed me. After a while she asked me if I wanted to have sex. I said, ‘No, of course not, I’m not that easy.’ So we’re playing this dance, back and forth, until finally I suggested we go to my room. She said yes and then we banged.”

“Boom!” I gave him a high five. “It was nice to be there for most of it to see it go down. She seemed a little aloof but I guess her plan was to get banged all along.”

“She had really sexy underwear, like she knew she was going to get laid. She just broke up with her boyfriend and was ready to be bad.”

“That’s inspiring, man. What you got is what I want. I just need to find my city.”

“You’ll find it.”

“I hope so, but I will say that you were the right person to meet at the right time in the right country. It’s like god put you in front of me, giving me the answer of what I have to do next. It’s like he said, ‘Roosh, I know you’re having problems right now figuring out what you want to do. I want you to meet this guy named Kamal.’”

He laughed, not minding my melodrama.

“What you’ve done here,” I went on, “such as being a regular at a couple good spots and getting in with the staff, I’ve done a bit of in other cities, but it was mostly accidental. Just like how I’m conscious with game, I need to be conscious with being king of a city. I don’t see why it can’t be done.”

“It can be done.”

For the previous two years I was searching hard for poosy paradise. I believed that within the first week a city should slap me across the face and announce if it was paradise or not, but Kamal did the opposite. He went to a city that wasn’t poosy paradise and made it so. He created paradise from something mediocre by putting in his blood and sweat, while I was living the life of a wandering gypsy, expecting paradise to be handed to me merely from my ability to hop on an airplane. I saw the flaw in my approach, and on the bus ride to my next city, I was ready to change the game that I’ve been running for all of my adult life.

Read Next: 13 Personality Traits Of Polish Women

A year ago I got an email from a reader of mine named Kamal. He lived in Warsaw and asked for some advice on getting with the local models. My advice to him was simple: “To get a star you have to be a star.” Even though I wasn’t swimming in models myself, I knew that it took displays of high value to get with women who are viewed upon as having high value. Through the months he sent me short updates about living in Warsaw, but they were somewhat forgotten in the huge pile of mail I receive.

By the time I arrived in Warsaw to continue my exploration of Poland, I was ready to pick a city and stay for an extended period of time. By hopping from city to city, I was not leveraging the value I’ve built up over the years. I became so dependent on the cold approach to get laid that the minute I stopped approaching was the minute all my prospects dried up. I knew that the only way I’d get “passive” sex is if I build up some local status and have girls seek me out based on what they have heard or seen. I was ready for Warsaw to be the place that I stay and work on this new game.

I wasn’t in the same state as my last trip to Poland, when I had very little European women experience and was hungry for notches and flags. Now I was looking for stability and something that resembled a more normal life. Even if I was thirsty for more bangs, Warsaw would have stymied me. The quality was below the Polish average but the male competition was intense. I had written off Polish guys as being duds, but in the first few clubs I went to, they were out in force, approaching like maniacs. There was no room to build up a bit of a mysterious vibe and play it slow like I did in Poznan. It was a race to approach the fastest, spin the girl around, dance, and so on. I didn’t have the will for it.

It didn’t help that the attitude of the women were more sour. I was getting dismissive responses and two girls I approached even asked me to buy them a drink, something that didn’t happen to me in the entirety of my previous stay in Poland. I could tell that the biggest and fastest growing city in the country was having a negative effect on women who I naively thought were immune to that sort of thing. My plan to stay in Warsaw, to build local status and get passive bangs, was cancelled after just a few days.

—

Kamal responded to my arrival email where I asked if he wanted to have a drink. He agreed and we met on a Friday night. He greeted me with a large smile and a handshake. Immediately I noticed he spoke with a French accent. It turned out he was from Morocco, which has a strong French influence. He led me to one of his favorite lounges where the doormen cordially greeted him. We checked our coats and I noticed that he was suited up. If I knew, I would have upgraded the H&M v-neck I was wearing.

I followed him to a table where he introduced me to four Polish women, one of whom he recently had sex with. More people joined and he always quickly introduced me as his friend. He worked the table like a raconteur, talking enough to show value but not so much that he bored his audience. All eyes were on him while I got the perfunctory “Where are you from?” but with no substantial follow-up to my answer. He made everyone feel special enough but not too special, and he tossed me a few glances that I interpreted as “You’re alright, yeah?” I noticed he would often adjust his cuff links, not because they needed to be adjusted, but perhaps to relax himself, to take the edge off of being in the social spotlight.

“This is only the warm up spot,” he told me. “There’s a club I want to take you to.” After a couple drinks and more introductions with Warsaw scenesters whose names I immediately forgot, we left to the club a few blocks away. It was a mob scene. The line was more than half a city block long. Before I objected to what would be an uncomfortably long wait, he said, “Follow me.” We walked down the line and received cold glares as we passed those waiting in the cold. At the front door the velvet rope gave way and we were whisked in.

Inside the club we went straight to the VIP room. I excused myself to the bathroom and noticed that they had real cloth towels, not paper. The club itself wasn’t bad, but the talent was lacking. Kamal apologized and said that it was usually better. He bought me a round of drinks and we stayed awhile. He showed me pictures of the model he was banging, the one that my advice helped him get, and I made no attempt to conceal that I was duly impressed with the evening, which ended at a local bar down the street with a round of Polish yellow vodka.

The next night we started in the same lounge. He brought one of his fuck buddies. I won’t lie—she was gorgeous, and so refined that I didn’t know Polish girls came in that flavor. The story he told me of how he got here had a lot of detail, with explanation into his early game and how he deflected the cockblock and so on, the type of detail that men who don’t do so well with women wouldn’t even be aware of. I wanted to dig deeper into his success.

—

On Sunday afternoon we met in a quiet café. “You’ve built up quite the empire here,” I said.

“Thank you. It took two years.”

“Two years?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes, the first year I didn’t do as well. That first time I emailed you I was actually in the middle of a slump, but I took your advice and decided to be the star. I got a beautiful flat in the center, I joined a business club that connected me with the most successful people in Warsaw, and I actively used Facebook to keep contacts warm. Like today out of the blue I got a message from a girl I kissed six months ago. She asked me if I wanted to meet for a drink. I think it’s because she saw all the other girls that comment on my profile.”

“So this wasn’t an overnight thing?”

“No, definitely not. When I first came in the city, I was working real hard. I was going out all the time and approaching girls like crazy. I was banging some but it took a lot of effort for what I got. For a while I was spending serious money on bottles and not getting much in return. I even spent time gaming the bouncers. Now over 80% of my bangs come from that club, where I can sit back and snipe. I had one streak where I approached four girls over a weekend and banged three.” I mused for a few seconds on the logic of such a streak.

“When you approach a girl now in one of your regular spots,” I said, “she has probably seen you before flirting with other girls or talking to the staff. So you’re leveraging the status without knowing it.”

“This is possible. Now random bangs come to me out of the blue. My social circle is big, money is good, and I’m about to buy an apartment here. I love the city and plan on staying.” He’s 27 years old.

“How do you make money?” I asked.

“Just like you. I sell game books but to a French audience. There are not many French ‘PUAs’ like in America, and I was one of the first.” He went on to list some of the technical specifics of his business before the conversation came back to how he created his Warsaw lifestyle.

I said, “I really like the idea of building a social network and getting messages from girls out of the blue. I’m getting tired of actively hunting every night. If I don’t approach for one month, I don’t get laid. I have to always be working. The irony is that my money is passive. We’re talking now and I’m selling a few books probably, but when it comes to getting laid, I use a different approach that’s starting to wear on me.”

“You saw me this weekend. I did maybe two or three approaches. To get this you have to invest hard in the beginning and then you can relax. You can do it very easily with what you know.”

“Yes but there is a problem: I don’t stay in the same place. You’ve been here for two years. I rarely stay in a place for two months. How can I build passive bangs in that short of a time? My travel habit guarantees I’ll have to keep grinding it out, at a time in my life where I’m least motivated to do so.”

“Well that’s a problem then.”

“It is.”

TO BE CONCLUDED

Click the caption button to activate English subtitles (you may have to go to the video page on Youtube):

The title of this show was “Sex Mission” but it might as well have been called “Roosh Roast.” They came at me pretty hard, from just about every angle. I knew it going in so that’s why I was more impressed than surprised with the stuff they pulled. My main concern was keeping my pocket square from sliding down (I was successful).

Before I go over the highlights, you’ll see that I wore an earpiece. Someone in the studio translated everything for me but obviously there was a delay. Since the show had so many people competing to talk, by the time I heard the complete translations, someone else was talking. This definitely limited my participation. The show also edited about half of what was filmed, including my distinction of love tourists vs sex tourists, among other things.

1:55: Yes it’s true, I did study bacterias in college.

2:39: lol at grocery bag picture.

3:10: Ukrainian nationalist commended me for having the energy to visit so many countries. “He must be exhausted!”

4:00: My longest monologue, capped off with a passport beard shave, one of my newer moves for use in the East.

5:04: They found my Ukrainian girl pictures post and then brought out two of the girls.

5:50: I tell the girls to leverage this exposure into an entertainment career. I suppose my mentality is still American.

6:32: Host tries to get a rile out of me, saying I made everything up in between studying bacterias. I did speak a response (which I forgot), but it was edited out.

6:59: I’m being threatened with a lawsuit. I wasn’t scared. Both of these girls are huge attention whores, especially the brunette, whose hero is Paris Hilton. I promise you they loved being on the show.

9:00: I met this guy on Couchsurfing and we hung out twice at night.

10:14: “Of course I had to lie.” lol

10:37: There goes me, under the bus.

11:05: This girl is a lying bitch—I never approached her. I don’t holla at plastic surgery victims.

12:35: “I told my friend about it,” who happens to be a popular reporter. What a setup.

14:44: Fat Bono comes through with a smackdown on American girls. I enjoyed this. He seemed to be mostly supportive of me.

15:54: Nice camera shot.

16:45: The crazy sex tourist hunters arrive with footage of them making an Italian man cry. Most of the audience was laughing at this. I started losing the spotlight at this point.

19:13: My best pose, I’d say.

19:30: This woman is insane, full of anger. She was not pleasant in any way.

20:41: Sex tourist hunter says I’m breaking the constitution for using the flag. This argument was also used for Bang Iceland.

21:01: Go bang American women, hell if I care!

22:05: The crowd is showing me more support. I’m starting to feel like Rocky in Rocky IV. I wanted them to chant my name by the end, but this did not happen.

23:30: Max the sex tourist hunter takes actual weapons with him when he goes out. After the show, the bodyguard immediately came up to me and escorted me to the backroom, worried that Max might do something.

25:10: Is this shit over yet?

25:57: The hate goes from me to Max.

26:08: This woman (a singer, I think) was very nice to me after the show, but she didn’t speak English. I’d make love to her.

26:41: It’s revealed that Max is a PUA, or something.

27:43: I aimed for the jugular.

28:17: I win?

28:45: Pizza.

29:06: And I’m done.

31:26: Lovely lady who was a strong fan. She actually read about my work before the show and said that she agrees with my teachings.

32:19: Pocket square looking good.

33:04: Elegant, yes.

Overall it was a good experience. Going on this show here or that interview there is giving me experience for one day when the stakes may be higher.

Learn more about the book that led to the appearance: Bang Ukraine.

For most of my adult life, I was pretty confident that Washington DC was the worst possible city for a man to live in, but I have found a place that is worse: Toronto, Canada. Here are the reasons why…

1. Girls are more excited about getting late night food than having sex

Do you remember how excited you were as a kid on Christmas when opening up the hot toy of the season? Well that’s how groups of Toronto girls act at last call when they realize it’s time to stuff their face with hot dogs, poutine, or diner fare. I thought women in DC were a little weird about getting pizza after the bars close, but the women of Toronto take it to another level—they have a plan to eat junk food before they even start drinking.

2. Girls cockblock more than anywhere else in the world

Good luck trying to have a ten minute non-interrupted conversation in a bar or club if her friends are nearby. If they don’t physically pull her away from you then what happens is that a rotating gaggle of women will come to “check up” on her, as if you’re on the verge of beating or raping her in full view of everyone. I’ve never seen such baby-like behavior in the Western world. I even experienced a case where the fat friend of a girl I was talking to said that I could “proceed” with the conversation. Fuck that.

3. Girls think they are cooler than they actually are

In DC you have a bunch of lame people who think they are important because of their government job. In Toronto you have a bunch of lame people who think they are cool because… I don’t know why. This is even worse because instead of trying to impress you with the work they’re doing, they try to impress you with slang, name-dropping, or commenting on how “busy” they are. I remember when a girl tried to insult me by calling me a “fucktard” and another white bread girl said to “get at” her. Just because you know the words to a Drake song and go to hip restaurants doesn’t make you cool.

4. Girls are obese

I’m afraid that America has to take some blame for this because it seems that the our lifestyle has corrupted Canadian girls. It’s a shame because a lot of them have cute faces (they’re more attractive overall than DC chicks), but once you catch sight of her fat arms and the muffin top she’s trying to hide by wearing black, you start thinking of the porn clip you’ll soon be masturbating to.

5. Girls don’t give eye contact

I know some girls are reading right now and thinking, “They don’t give you eye contact because you are ugly!” This very well may be the case, but in Montreal I got daily eye contact from women who were much better looking than the Toronto specimens I had to deal with. Not only that, but Montreal women would smile at me. Yes, you read that right: attractive women would look at me and smile. In Toronto I might as well have been invisible.

6. You have to be approved by the “mother hen”

Every social circle in Toronto has an overweight woman who acts as a leader of the pack. She is the one who tells girls where to go and who to talk to. Apparently this is how she gets power in life since she’s unable to exert the upper hand over men due to her unattractive and portly appearance. If the mother hen doesn’t approve of you then you will not get laid. She can snap her fingers and her minions jump to attention so that they are not excluded from the tribe. Therefore not only do you have to build attraction with the girl you like, but you also have to charm a fat and ugly girl to give you permission to just continue the interaction.

7. Too many Asian and Indian girls

I think legal immigration is a great thing because it allows people from third world countries to lift their station and have a go at a first world lifestyle, but if you like white girls, a place like Toronto just won’t do. At any bar at least 30% of the female clientele will be filled with minority races that don’t appeal to discriminating men like myself. While the Asian girls weren’t that bad since they adopted a white manner of appearance, the Indian girls were absolutely not attractive.

8. Ugly girls are desperate while attractive girls are inaccessible

It shouldn’t be much of a challenge if you want to bang a Toronto girl who is a 5 or below. She will approach you, smile at you, and be generally easy (though of course you’ll still need game to seal the deal). In the accidental conversations I had with these unattractive women, I wished I had lower standards so that I could have mostly carefree sex that happens a million times a day in most parts of the world. In Toronto, however, once you get into the 6 range, the difficulty of banging increases in shocking fashion. The 6′s and 7′s give you attitude or are encased in huge social groups. The 8′s and above, if you happen to see them, already have dudes.

9. The entrenched PUA culture is raising the egos of all women

I thought that Washington DC had a strong pickup culture, but I hadn’t been to Toronto. PUAs are like rats in Toronto, infecting many venues with their fake high energy, puffed-out chests, loud fashion accessories, and total sobriety. On Thursday night I went to Madison Avenue Pub where I got to see at least 50 of them approach every woman in the bar. As much as I want to hate on them for increasing the girls’ bitch shields, I now understand why they do it: they have to. The best game in Toronto is not being an interesting man but just approaching a million girls with your freezeouts and spin moves and negs until you find the horny girl who wants to fuck.

10. Last call is at 2am

It wouldn’t be so bad if venues didn’t get hopping until midnight, but two hours is simply not enough time to find a good venue, mingle, and meet an attractive woman who you want to take home. By the time you get warmed up, it’s time to go. In Toronto you won’t have enough time for a real seduction, so what you see at the end of the night is a bunch of phone numbers being exchanged before girls rush off to a diner to stuff their face.

11. If you make just one mistake with a Toronto girl, you will be rejected

Your conversation has to be 100% perfect and 100% politically correct. You can’t say anything that can be remotely construed as offensive, weird, or needy. Once I told a girl that I like “feminine women” and she immediately ditched me as if I farted. In Toronto the best game is to speak like you’re a White House spokesperson. And god help you if you utter a lame joke! In one case I was talking to a girl for 30 minutes and had kept the conversation tight enough that we were getting to the kissing stage. Then I made a mediocre joke and she said, “Wow that was corny. I should leave now.” This came from a woman who didn’t say one interesting or funny thing to me all night and thought I would be impressed with her “marketing” job. Toronto women would absolutely never get laid if they were men.

12. It’s very expensive

Food, drinks, taxis, and lodging are all more expensive than DC. Do you get any additional value for paying more? Nope, you only get crappier women and intolerable weather.

13. It’s a suburban city

Most of the people who party within the center on weekends actually live in boring cul-de-sacs. Friday and Saturday nights in Toronto is like how Washington DC is on New Year’s Eve: amateur hour. You get a bunch of office drones with no character or class crowding venues and acting like they’ve never seen alcohol or the opposite sex before. My best night out was Monday because there was a total lack of 905′ers.

14. It takes a lot of work to date up

I never saw an average-looking guy with a hot girl, but I saw many attractive guys with average girls. Toronto is a penis paradise where a woman can date a man much more attractive than she is pretty. If you’re not a good looking guy, you either have to own a nightclub or approach 100 girls a week.

15. It beats men down

I saw too many men who looked like corpses. They had no color, no energy, and seemingly no will to live. Spending too much time in Toronto will reduce your ambition, your horniness, and your happiness. Many guys I talked to said that when they traveled abroad, they couldn’t believe that hotter women made regular eye contact with them and responded with gentle smiles and warm vibes. Toronto is one of those cities that can make men hate life. Staying out of here becomes essential for your mental health.

Both Toronto and DC suck, but I wouldn’t hesitate to pick DC first. The nightlife gets going earlier and lasts longer. More girls live in the city. There is much less cockblocking. It’s not a deal breaker if you say a bad joke. Girls actually want to get laid, and it’s simply easier to get one-night stands. While Toronto had prettier women overall, it’s not enough to make it a better city. You know you’re in a crappy place when it’s midnight and you are more concerned about spending less money than having a good time with a cool chick. For the nights I spent going out in Toronto, I wished I stayed in and read a couple good books instead.

Read Next: A Message For People Who Love Toronto

Usually I’d have to write a Bang guide to get a media outlet calling me, but on my fourth day in Romania I was shadowed by a news crew for the country’s largest television station. Here is the clip that aired on Sunday morning:

And the clip that aired on Sunday night, with different footage and also a map:

Last night I was on a date with a girl who wasn’t aware of all my secrets when a Romanian guy on the street said, “Hey aren’t you Roosh? I just saw you on TV!” I quickly shuffled her away and was faced with many questions.

Wednesday:

The Liquor Store: Upon arrival I went to the liquor store to arm my afterparty move. In the vodka aisle I was debating whether I should get Absolut or Skyy. Seemingly out of nowhere, a tall girl appeared and said something to me in French. I took advantage of this and asked her if there’s a “local liquor” that I should try. She showed me a couple things as I asked her questions. I tried to continue the conversation, but she was with a girlfriend and didn’t stick around to chat.

The Too Good To Be True: My first night out in Montreal was quiet. I walked up and down St Laurent, the main nightlife strip, but couldn’t find a bar with more than ten people. I settled on a lounge that had two girls sitting at the bar. There was another girl, alone, who looked at me and smiled. Immediately I approached and she started asking me questions in a thick French accent. It can’t be this easy! Indeed, it can’t. She was friends with the bartender and DJ, who kept “checking” on her. I had no chance.

The Tall Blonde: A taxi driver led me to a place where a college kid was throwing a party. I was the oldest guy there. I spotted a stunning blonde, hotter than even the top tier of Croatia. I approached, but it didn’t hook so well. I was appreciative of the opportunity on a level of talent I rarely see in the wild.

Thursday:

The Return Of The Coffee Shop: I found a coffee shop with a communal table. There were three attractive girls around me. I approached the one who smiled at me. I asked, “Do you know what time this coffee shop closes?” She was from Vancouver and talked a lot—I barely had to do anything. I left with her number and texted her the next day. I sent “How are you?” and she asked me if I wanted to have a drink. It felt like a trap, and sure enough the date fell apart after I found out she only wanted to talk “about travel.” I didn’t want to waste two more hours to find out if that was true, so I dipped. She was the only non-French speaker I interacted with.

The Pixie: I went to a hipster bar and sat next to a girl. She had a bit of attitude but was cute, with a great body. I ordered a drink and she said that I “could” get one for her, too. I declined, and three minutes later her date arrived.

Friday:

The Tall French Girl Part I: She approached me in another hipster bar by saying something in French. “Can you say that again in English?” I replied. A little taller than I’d like, but thin and sexy. “Let’s get a drink and sit down,” I said. She didn’t want to kiss and went out for a smoke, never to return. I didn’t go with her because I suspected she wouldn’t bang me same night. I wanted to talk to other girls.

The 18 Year Old: I approached a young girl. The oldest guy she had dated was 28. I bought her a shot of tequila, then we went at it, sloppily. Her body was delicious. She invited me to the afterparty with her friends, but the cockblock came, and I was left alone on the street. A wingman wouldn’t have hurt.

The Tall French Girl Part II: I saw her on the sidewalk in front of the bar. “Where did you go?” I asked, feigning mild disappointment. She didn’t meet another guy, and didn’t see me kissing the other girl. “Let’s go for a walk,” I said. We walked straight into my place. It took over an hour to kiss her. Getting her onto my bed took another hour. I was getting tired. She wouldn’t let me remove her clothing. “I have to go home, I have a dog,” she said, “but you can take my number.”

Saturday:

The Petite: At the coffee shop I saw a girl with a perfect body. She was wearing a short skirt and high boots. I got a half boner staring at her. Face was fine, but irrelevant. Once the café was about to close, I looked at her laptop and said, “Is that a good laptop?” It was a good laptop, with internet access. We walked out together and she asked me if I wanted to have a beer. I agreed and on the way over she told me she had a boyfriend. She took me to a bar that seemed expensive, but she was eager to pay her way. She lived in another city and was leaving in two days. Then came one of her friends, a spinster who immediately started talking in French even though she spoke English. I made an excuse and left.

The Thick Hair: At another hipster bar I met a young French girl. She was curious and friendly. I was the first American she had really talked to. Two tequilla shots. I’m touching, getting closer. Sometimes it’s so much easier to game an 18-year-old than a 24-year-old. They get impressed easy. Until her friend comes. I think I need a wingman.

The Romanian: Halloween festivities were hurting me. Bigger groups with fewer people overall. In a bar I approached a hot Romanian girl, but she was with her boyfriend. Her sister was there, a butterface, but body was good. She likes American guys. I’m American. She asked me to come outside to smoke. “Let’s go for a walk,” I said. She bought cigarettes then we ran into her sister and three other guys. One of the guys she knew tried to pull the robbery. He told her, “I was thinking about how great we get along.” Not good. “Hey, I’m going this way,” I said, ready to say goodbye, but she ditched everyone and came with me to my apartment. She didn’t even want to kiss at first, but succumbed eventually. She was nervous and awkward. I took her to my bed, got some clothes off, then suddenly, “I can’t do this! I have to leave!”

Sunday:

The Dream Girl: I went to a club on hip hop night. I spotted a gorgeous girl with wavy hair and green eyes. She was extremely shy and I didn’t make much headway when the first cockblock came. Ten minutes later she stood next to me and I gave her a gentle elbow without saying anything. She resumed the conversation and opened up as I dropped some value. At some point I told her I was a nice guy and she replied, “You’re definitely an asshole. Only assholes say they’re nice!” It was on, but then this ugly Indian cunt came and said, “I’m only here for two days and I want to hang out with her so I’m going to take her away!” They were celebrating a birthday. For the rest of the night she was firmly in the middle of a group of six girls. Access denied.

The Toronto Butterface: I went to another bar, where I talked to a blonde from Toronto who was visiting her friend. She was dressed in a cat costume. Every minute she would break the conversation to talk to the gay bartender, returning with “Sorry!” The bar closed and the lights came on. Her face was rough. She must’ve realized my displeasure when she said, “I feel like you’re judging me.” I replied, “No, I’m just trying to figure out the color of your eyes because I’m… colorblind.” It didn’t last much longer after that.

Monday:

The Student: I settled into a coffee shop and asked a cute French girl what time it was closing. It hooked and we talked for a bit, but she got ready to leave when I announced I was in town for a short while.

I tried my best to get laid with a French-Canadian girl, but I failed. Should I have been more patient with dating? Should I have gotten more numbers? Should I have pipelined? The issues I faced:

1. I was getting great vibes, with many girls approaching me outright as if I was in Iceland, but the sex speed was slower than I expected.

2. I should have researched more venues instead of settling on the one nearest me. I got lazy.

3. I went during Halloween weekend. I never get laid during Halloween. I feel that girls are more concerned with getting validation than getting laid.

4. I should have lied about how long I was staying. Montreal girls are not slutty like Scandinavian girls—they don’t seem to want to put much investment in a guy who is leaving soon.

I got down not just on my Montreal failure but on the concept of the short flag mission. While exciting, it’s a guarantee you’ll have to aim lower and select for sluts (not that I dislike sluts). There were too many cases of nice girls slipping through my grasp when I knew they’d be mine if I stayed longer.

My Montreal experience highlighted the downside of love touristry. Even though I had the resources to spend a week there with solid logistics, I still walked away empty handed. I had one week in Toronto to make magic happen, but the drop in quality and increase in difficulty killed my motivation. My first flag failure was all but assured. I spent two weeks in Canada, had two short dates, kissed four girls, and got three back to my apartments, but in the end I simply could not connect. It was a tough failure to swallow.

But there was a thorough breakdown. Check out these posts I wrote on Return Of Kings:

• Everything You Need To Know About Croatian Girls
• 22 Photos Of Pretty Croatian Girls
• 16 Tips For Having Sex With Croatian Girls
• Top 5 Clubs In Zagreb To Get Laid

Croatian girls in a nutshell: pretty and thin but increasingly require American-style game.

If you haven’t been to ROK in a minute, here are some posts you may have missed:

• The 5 Easiest Clubs In The World To Get Laid
• How To Bang A Brazilian Woman In 5 Easy Steps
• All Girls Love Rough Sex
• An Amazing Manosphere Blog You’ve Never Seen
• 3 American Cities Men Must Avoid At All Costs
• How Black America Has Predicted Our Future
• American Women Simply Can’t Compete
• Taking The Red Pill Destroyed My Family
• The Manosphere Is Reaching A Tipping Point
• The Ironies Of Female Empowerment

ROK has surpassed this site in page views for January (just over 1 million). The magazine-style layout makes that feat easier, but it’s still a nice accomplishment. Stay on top of ROK posts by following its Twitter feed.

I’m sure you’re no stranger to the game SimCity and how changing one variable can have a huge effect on the makeup of your creation. Real life is no different, with thousands of variables and factors that constitute the temperament of any city.

My mission for the past couple of years has been to discover the most important variables that contribute to whether or not a city is poosy paradise. That is, what has to be present for the city to contain feminine, beautiful women who are relatively easy to get into bed while also contenting the spirit of the man who lives on its grounds? I’ve come up with fifteen factors…

1. Total Population. It’s no accident that “big city mentality” has come to have negative connotations. Girls will be less friendly, more “busy,” and more hypergamous in their attempt to land one of the many hyper-successful men that you have to compete with. Big cities also pose logistical problems, are more expensive, and are generally soul draining places that take man far away from his ancestral nature. I’ve determined that the optimum city size is between 500,000 to 1.5 million people, large enough to offer wide selection and variety, but small enough where women are friendly and male competition less intense.

2. Demographics. Many internet articles and almanacs claim high female-to-male ratios in the 18-65 cohort for many cities, but when you narrow it down to 18-30, you’ll find that most places are hopeless sausage fests. While not all sausage fests are equally bad, a city must provide a man with encouragement and inspiration to be socially active. Sausage fests give little of either. It’s also obvious that a woman will be less willing to date you if there is a seemingly unlimited supply of guys for her to sample.

3. City Vs Suburb Density. The city core should be denser than the outlying suburbs. Otherwise quality women will be too diffuse and dating will be logistically hard. Two examples of cities where suburbs are more dense than the city centers are Toronto and Washington DC, arguably the two worst cities in North America for men. Dense city centers also pave the way for more day game opportunities. You won’t have to walk around for an hour just to do two approaches.

4. Nightlife Blueprint. A city like Rio de Janeiro has many nightlife areas, but they are spread out over a large area. Same goes for Kharkiv, Ukraine. The effect of this is that you sample less venues and reluctantly settle into spots that may not suit your game best, eventually resulting in a lower ROI. If you need to take a taxi to get around, the nightlife is far from optimal. You want to have compact nightlife centers like in Cordoba, Poznan, Krakow, Reykjavik, and Tartu, where taxis are not needed.

5. Local Economy. The stronger the economy, the less able you will be able to “impress” a girl coming from America. Ideally you want a girl to think that by associating with you, her life may be improved in some way other than sex. Otherwise you will be in a city where the desirable women are holding out for high status men. On the other hand, you don’t want a city so poor that women can’t afford to dress nice, wear perfume, and go out to day or night venues. The city should only be “a little bit” poor.

6. Adoption Of Feminism. While cities that are highly feminist pave the way for one-night stands, they tend to destroy hope of finding pleasant and feminine women. You can identify feminist growth by staying on top of news stories where the latest “slut walk” is heralded as a momentous human rights victory. You must also understand that for cities without feminism, women have high expectations of men to provide and lead. If you are unable to do this, you may have trouble in non-feminist cities.

7. iPhone Penetration. In foreign countries, not all smartphones are created equal. Girls who own iPhones show more negative behavior than girls who own a utilitarian Android phone that costs less than half as much (only in America are iPhones cheap). The presence of iPhones are the canary in the coal mine for how much flaking, attitude, and general difficulty you’ll face with foreign women who are obsessed with seeking status. While smartphones will eventually blanket the world, you should pay close attention to the ratio of iPhones to Android models in your determination of whether a city will be good to you or not.

8. Level Of Male Aggressiveness And Game. While you don’t compete with any one man in a city, you do compete with the collective. If the standard of game is higher, you will get less than in a city where the standard is lower, regardless of how high your own level may be. When I was in Poznan, I witnessed an atrocious level of game where guys wouldn’t approach (when they did it was only on the dance floor). I concluded that Polish guys have no game, but when I went to Warsaw I was amazed to see guys approaching like animals, with both talking and dance game. They were fearless enough that they neutralized my “chill guy in the bar” game.

A high standard of game is also the case in Brazil, unlike its nearby neighbor Colombia. Ideally you want to be in a city where the guys don’t know how to approach or are scared to. Besides, if you see guys approaching like machines, chances are you’re in a city where game is required due to women being difficult or existing in a low ratio.

9. Depth Of Social Connections. Assuming you’re a guy who will arrive in a city without knowing anyone, you don’t want the city’s populace to be heavily dependent on social circle for their human interaction needs. If the people are so insular that it’s hard for an outsider to swoop in and access the local women, you’re in for a tough grind. The two cities where I found social circle to be extremely important were Gotenburg and Cordoba. You can pickup in those cities, but your results will be paltry compared to integrating yourself into a social circle instead.

Since social circle game is an indirect method to getting laid, I must conclude that social circle dependent cities are not ideal for the player. On the other hand, cities that have very weak social circle connections (Washington DC) means that women will be more open to playing the field and openly receiving constant attention from men, especially via internet dating sites. The cities I’ve done best in is when the average girl I meet has only one or two good friends that she’s not obsessed with seeing every weekend.

10. Western Culture Omnipresence. A slight fascination with Western culture (particularly American) will help you show value and get your foot in the door, but a heavy fixation will also coincide with a desire for material excess, a Carrie Bradshaw dating lifestyle, and attitude and speech that unfortunately mirrors that of a standard-issue American girl. I’ve witnessed first-hand the damaging effects of Eastern European girls living in America for more than a couple months and how it made them undatable. The ideal balance is when she’s curious about American culture but not actively idolizing it.

Closely related to Western culture obsession is a strong table service culture. If the major clubs actively seek and court men to pay for expensive bottles, you’re going to experience difficulty with picking up at night.

11. English Penetration. Full penetration of English, as in Scandinavia and the Anglosphere, will coincide with obesity, flip flop style, and masculine attitude. But too little English, like in Eastern Ukraine and Colombia, and you’re simply unable to communicate. The sweet spot is about a 60% penetration rate, which means that a little more than half the girls you talk to in the 18-30 cohort are conversational in English. You’ll be upset at some beautiful girls you can’t communicate with, but there will still be a large sample of English speakers who are feminine and pleasing.

12. Cost Of Living. The lower the better, assuming that low cost doesn’t decrease the quality of other variables. I’ve lived in many great cities for under $2,000 a month, and that includes living alone in a centrally located apartment. Ironically, the more expensive the city, the worse the women tend to be.

13. Hipster Culture Adoption Rates. Hipsterism is de-feminizing: it promotes smoking, grotesque body mutilation in the form of piercings and tattoos, ugly style, and sarcastic attitudes. However, a slight hipster culture is acceptable in that it yields easier women and a greater variety of night venues. It’s only when there are too many hipsters that women no longer need to look or act feminine.

14. Major Universities Per Capita. If you want a city with young women who are untainted by dating, you need cities that have at least one major university per 100,000 people. Otherwise you’ll have an older female population of women who already went through their slut stage and now expect you to wine and dine them in order to put out, compared to younger girls who will ride your penis for experience or experimentation. Huge cities may have many universities but the students are diluted due to the population size, meaning it’s quite difficult for cities over 1 million in population to hold to this rule.

15. Crime Level. A city with crime doesn’t affect you as much as it tenses up women and makes it more difficult to approach them in day situations. If a girls thinks strange men who approach may be a mugger, it will be much harder to have a conversation with her that results in a number being exchanged. Another problem of a high crime level is that girls refuse to walk alone at night, taking away yet another solid opportunity to approach. Lastly, lots of crime means you need to take taxis to get around, increasing the cost of living for that city.

I’m sure there are more factors that I’ve yet to observe or understand, but I believe these fifteen are the most important in evaluating cities for a pleasing lifestyle full of feminine women. A man will save time and ultimately thousands of dollars if he does research on the above factors before planning to spend a lot of time in any one location.

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