Before I came to Denmark, Henrik introduced me to his Swedish fuck buddy over Skype. At that time I was planning to go to Sweden, so he was trying to do me a favor by setting me up with a local. The Swede and I friended each other on Facebook.

Unfortunately, he told her about my blog. It was upsetting to her since she was a diehard feminist, as most Swedish girls are. Our subsequent chats consisted of her bitching me out about my sexist beliefs, so I was forced to remove her on Facebook and block her on Skype. She’ll become important later.

Henrik adamantly refused to take my advice on dating a new dream girl he had met right before I came to Copenhagen. She proceeded to dump him after the second date, before they could do more than kiss. He was much less responsive to my ideas than when we were in Rio. It seemed that spending a year in Copenhagen with his old friends had caused him to fully regress to being a nice guy.

For the first month, Henrik and I went out one or two nights a week, reliving some of our Rio days. We joked about how our friendship was unlikely since we believed essentially the opposite of everything, especially women. He was a romantic beta who wanted a long-term relationship, and I the shallow gash hound who just wanted to fuck something for the night.

Over the next few weeks, I started to develop a mild resentment that he didn’t see things the way I did, even when I led by example. How could he not come to the same conclusions I had? Why did he insist on spitting a game that made it harder to get with women? A crack in the friendship developed when one night I got angry at him after he pulled me away from talking to a girl at last call. The reason? He was “bored.” He wanted entertainment while I was focused on getting laid.

I tried my best to rationalize how much his friendship meant to me, but now he was doing actual harm. I began to see only the negatives. Instead of bickering with him like my instinct was telling me, I realized that with only one more month remaining in Denmark it would be best to just take it easy until I left. There was no point burning a bridge when in all likelihood our friendship was going to dissipate anyway.

One night I convinced him to go out with me to a bar. He met a tall Polish girl. They connected quickly and the following Friday he invited me out to dinner and drinks with her and her friend. It sounded like a four or five-hour affair, so I asked him to send me a picture of the friend. If she was at least a 6, I’d go. She turned out to be a beast, so I told him, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Then he disappeared. I didn’t hear from him in more than a week, even though we had been contacting each other almost every day. He finally messaged me to say he was going on a two-week trip with his buddy Paul to the Middle East.

During the three weeks I didn’t see him, I experienced a hot streak. It felt like pussy was falling from the sky. I was getting so much more going out alone than with Henrik as my wingman that I began thinking hard about our friendship. I concluded that we were friends because of my loneliness, not because we were a good match.

In no way did I blame him for not getting laid. I take full responsibility for my sex life, but his absence made me realize that I no longer needed him, or any other guy, to help me meet women. I didn’t need a guy to put me in a social mood, and I didn’t need him to wing me. A can of worms opened up where I asked myself what was more important to my life, friendship or casual sex.

Fast forward a month to my last Saturday night in Copenhagen. Henrik came back from his trip and I was genuinely excited to hang out with him for what would probably be the last time. He told me he had invited one of his friends for my goodbye celebration. It turned out to be the same Swedish girl who had beefed with me online.

I was annoyed, but tried to keep a positive attitude, saying I’d be nice to her. I went to my favorite bar and told him to meet me there.

While waiting alone, I talked to three friendly Danish girls, one of whom I took a liking to. Our conversation was going well when all of a sudden an ugly hog came between us and started stroking my arm.

“Excuse me, but I’m having a conversation with someone,” I said to her.

She didn’t move. I increased my volume: “I can’t talk to you right now, so can you please move?” I wasn’t surprised because it has actually happened before where Danish beasts had come up to me and refused to take no for an answer. Then I saw Henrik out of the corner of my eye, laughing. It turned out that the beast was the Swedish girl.

I put on a fake smile and politely asked the Swedish girl if she would move so I could resume my conversation.

“You don’t like me, do you?” the Swedish girl asked.

“You’re very quick.”

“But why not?”

“Look, I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t like you, and now you’re interrupting my conversation with someone. Leave me alone.”

She walked away while giving me the middle finger. I resumed my chat with the Danish girl. Ten minutes later, the Swedish girl interrupted us again.

I looked at Henrik and said, “Hey buddy, thanks a fucking lot for bringing this stupid bitch here on my last night. That’s how much my friendship means to you, huh?”

“I’m not a bitch!” the Swedish girl shouted.

“Yes, you are. A stupid, ugly, fat, cockblocking bitch. Now get the fuck out of my face.”

“Don’t try to intimidate me!”

Then Henrik said, “Don’t talk that way about my friends.”

“So now she’s your friend and I’m not. Okay man, I see how it is. Well you know what? She can fuck off and so can you.”

“You’re just being angry now,” Henrik said.

“No shit I’m angry. What kind of friend are you? You know it’s my last night and you bring a girl who gives me shit and then cockblocks me. You disappear for a week because I don’t want to go on some lame double date. Fuck all that.”

“And do you know why I disappeared on you? Because I was trying to teach you the value of friendship for not wanting to hang out with me and my girl’s friend.”

The bar was dark, but my face was shining a molten red. I felt ambushed, like it had been his plan to start drama with a girl he already knew had been giving me problems.

I said, “Hold on, let me get this straight. You ditched me because I didn’t want to waste a Friday night with your girl’s ugly ass friend? Are you my dad, trying to teach me a lesson?” I took my phone out of my pocket, removed the SIM card he had given me when I arrived in Copenhagen and threw it at him. “Take your fucking SIM card and go fuck off with that ugly fat bitch. FUCK YOU!”

Did I overreact? Possibly, but I didn’t want a friend who was capable of making me that upset. Our friendship, spanning two continents and seventeen months, was over. They walked away and left the bar.

The Danish girl I’d been talking to witnessed my temper tantrum, freaked out, and also walked away. I was no longer in any mood to talk to girls. I just wanted to go home, but it felt like that was what Henrik and the Swedish girl would have wanted. I decided to stay. In the next hour, I slowly got my mood back. I focused on drinking vodka from my spot, making small talk with the guys and girls around me.

I started chatting with a 28-year-old woman. Things were going well, but then I got into a heated argument with a drunk Danish guy who almost pushed me off my chair as he tried to get a drink at the bar. I told him to stop, he didn’t, and we were on the verge of blows until his friend broke it up. He was considerably bigger than me, but I had so much anger bubbling underneath that I was ready to fight and get beat up. The Danish woman walked away. Scandinavians are a peaceful bunch that don’t like displays of violence or aggression.

I was very edgy, but tried my best to remain calm. I knew I was failing when a gay guy came up to me and said, “Man, you look really pissed!”

Two ugly girls approached me but I didn’t indulge them for long. It was getting late and I was losing hope. Sure, my mood could’ve been better, but there just weren’t any cute girls to talk to. I sat in silence for what seemed like forever, stewing about the night’s events, when two young girls came into the bar. I forced myself to approach.

“You guys don’t look like you’re from here,” I said. I went through the motions until a conversation hooked. I ended up talking to the blonde while her brunette friend flirted with the bartender.

The night before, I stupidly told girls I was leaving “in a few days.” I went home alone, without a number or a kiss, the first time I’d gotten absolutely nothing since flying solo without Henrik. I’m positive my knightly honesty was the reason why. I find it weird that even when a girl wants a one-night stand, she needs to be able to rationalize it by saying to herself that a relationship could have developed.

I learned from my mistake. When the blonde asked me when I was leaving, I said, “I live here,” even though my flight was scheduled to leave in four days. Twenty minutes later I was making out with her while the friend was making out with the bartender. I bought a round of drinks and soon it was almost five a.m. I asked if she wanted to go. She said, “I can’t leave without my friend.”

Her friend told us she wanted to wait for the bartender until he was done closing the bar. Of course she didn’t want to wait alone, so the three of us sat on a bench outside, in the cold, for an hour.

My girl was falling asleep, so I talked gibberish to keep her awake. Finally the bartender came and took the friend away. I said to my girl, “Do you want to hang out at my place for a little while?”

“Yes, but we can only sleep.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “I’m tired anyway.”

We walked to my apartment.

Once on my bed clothes began coming off, but I was getting a shitload of resistance. She said, “I’m not very experienced at this.” She was 18 years old.

I said, “We can take it easy and slow, no rush.” Then I uttered the biggest lie of the night: “I want it to feel good for you. I’m not worried about me.”

It worked.

The poor girl was so self-conscious that she didn’t even like it when I looked at her pussy to do the insertion, and insisted on leaving her shirt on. Centimeter by centimeter, I worked it in by feel with the help of about a gallon of lube.

I can assure you that the sex didn’t feel good for her, but toward the end I could get some rhythm going and actually busted my nut. Then I saw all the blood on my bed.

The sex was awful, but I didn’t care because wounding that 18-year-old pussy left my dick hard until she left. I don’t know why, but the fact that she was thirteen years younger than me aroused me tremendously. She asked if I wanted to hang out again and I told her maybe, but I’d be out of town for a while. I didn’t feel at all bad or guilty about what I did.

I never spoke to Henrik again.

My new Danish roommate, a 22-year-old student, figured out that it was a whole lot easier to get laid if he let girls come to him. He set up a CouchSurfing profile that advertised his apartment as being “just a few steps” from the central train station. He sorted through a dozen requests each week from hippie travelers, only responding to cute girls. At first glance, it seemed like the perfect scam to get laid without any effort, but there were two big problems.

The first was that the quality on CouchSurfing was laughably low, comprised mostly of ugly girls who were bottom of the barrel from their respective countries. The second was that their photos were grossly misleading, just like you’d encounter on a regular Internet dating site.

Both factors were in full effect with our first CouchSurfer, a young American girl. She gained entry into our house even though she had the ugliest face I had seen in months. “She looked good in the photos,” my roommate said with a disapointed look on his face.

“You underestimate a woman’s skill in misrepresenting herself on the Internet,” I replied.

Two more female CouchSurfers came the following day—a Russian girl who didn’t like talking and a chubby French girl with a sexy accent who was obviously looking to screw. My roommate and his Danish buddies all competed for the French girl while the Russian and American faded into the background. It was a typical scene of young guys fighting it out for one chick, ensuring that no one would get her (it took a second stay a month later for the French girl to get fucked by one of the guys).

I left the crowded apartment to join my original Danish roommate from Rio, Henrik, at a party thrown by one of his friends. His date was a Brazilian girl he’d been trying to seduce for three years. A couple weeks earlier they had masturbated in front of each other on Skype, where she made many positive comments about his penis size. All signs pointed to a bang.

The first thing he said when I arrived at the party was, “I fucked up.”

“What happened?”

“I tried to kiss Camilla, but she wouldn’t let me. Now it’s all ruined.”

“Okay, slow down,” I said. “Tell me what led up to it.”

“We were in the kitchen, standing really close. I looked at her and said, ‘I’m going to kiss you now.’ Then I leaned in, but she turned away.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad. How long had you guys been out before you tried to kiss?”

“About two hours.”

“And she’s Brazilian, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I mean, you were in Rio with me. The girls kissed at way under two hours, and that was without any Skype sex. She has known you for three years, she’s seen your cock, and she didn’t want to kiss? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it.”

“It sounds like she’s playing some weird game. Why would a girl go out with a dude on a weekend night unless she’s at least trying to get some action?” I wondered out loud. “I bet that living in Denmark for so long has poisoned her Brazilian vibe. It’s the same thing with Brazilian girls I meet in America. They act colder and more strange.”

“So what should I do?” he asked.

“How are things right now?”

“Well, I pulled back. We haven’t talked in about twenty minutes.”

“Let me think of a plan. You still have options.”

While Henrik moped in the kitchen, looking for alcohol, his friend Paul came up to me with a copy of my book, A Dead Bat In Paraguay. Henrik had told him about me and my blog after returning from Brazil.

They’d been talking about the book before I arrived, so the four girls there were eager to meet the guy behind it. They asked all sorts of questions as if I was famous. Unfortunately, they were ugly, but I didn’t mind the attention, since it was the closest I’ll ever get to an official book signing.

“Can you read from the book?” Paul asked.

“You mean read out loud?”

“Yeah, out loud.”

He handed me the book and I scanned for passages a mixed-gender, liberal crowd would enjoy. Should I read the part about when I had explosive diarrhea in the Peruvian mountains? The part when I wet the bed in Bolivia? How about one of the dozens of nights when I masturbated after failing to get laid?

“The book is sexist and foul,” I finally said. “The girls won’t like it.”

He insisted, but I refused. While I’ve always gotten satisfaction in knowing that girls who read my work are offended, I didn’t want to be the center of attention at a party where there was no girl I was interested in.

One ugly girl ended up reading several pages. Then she pulled me aside and asked if I was “arrogant” and “anti-feminist.” She seemed proud to be confronting me, but I just smiled and nodded my head, refusing to engage her in the debate she’d obviously been mentally rehearsing. It would have just fucked up my mood.

Henrik came up to me looking upset. “Dude, you won’t believe what just happened. You know that bottle of Jameson I brought to the party?”

“The bottle that’s now empty?”

“Yeah, that one. Camilla still had a glass half full of Jameson. I grabbed her glass to pour some into mine, but she said, ‘Stop taking my whiskey!’ She yelled at me!”

I scratched my beard. “This is bad,” I said. “You’re not getting laid tonight.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“First the head-turn, and now denying you whiskey that you brought. She’s being cold. A bitch, even.”

“Plus she mentioned she may try to meet up with her friends in a bit.”

“Wow, that is bad. It’s over, bro.”

“Damn it.” He tightened his mouth and looked down.

“But there is one thing you can do,” I said.

“Tell me, please.”

“Now there’s no guarantee it will work, and for tonight you have to completely forget about getting laid, but it’s your best shot at fucking her at some indeterminable point in the future.”

“What is it?” He was eager now, and I paused a few seconds to heighten the tension.

“Ditch.”

“Ditch?”

“Yup, just leave without saying anything. That drives a girl crazy. She’ll blow up your phone and call you a lot of nasty names, but at the same time it will make her pussy incredibly moist like carrot cake. She loves a guy who doesn’t want her, and there’s nothing like the ditch move to let her know that.”

“What does it involve?”

“Tell her you’re going to the bathroom, exit the building, then don’t answer her texts or calls for at least a day.”

“I can’t do that. That’s so mean.”

“That’s the whole point, dummy. It’s your best bet. Otherwise, I’m afraid she’s going to ditch you first. All signs point to that.”

I could tell he was torn. He was a nice guy who loved the art of romance now being asked to be a supreme dick. The only reason he finally agreed to my plan was that I had never let him down in the past. Everything I had ever told him worked, especially in Rio, where thanks to me he had fucked his dream girl. He knew it was in his best interest to do exactly what I had told him.

We began putting the plan into action. First, I loudly complained about wanting to go to a bar, but expressed confusion on how to navigate from the residential area we were in. I took out a map and pretended to be studying it.

Then he told Camilla, “I’m going to put him on the right path because he wants to go to some bar. He’s a stupid American and he doesn’t know how to get there. I’ll be right back.” Of course he had no intention of returning.

We walked out of the apartment together, hurrying our pace once on the sidewalk. “My heart is pounding,” he said.

“Yeah, because you just disrespected the fuck out of someone,” I laughed, “but when you do it enough times, you don’t even feel anything.”

“You’re a monster, Roosh.”

“Thank you. I consider that a compliment.”

We were in line at a rock bar when I advised Henrik to turn off his phone. I was afraid he’d respond if she called.

“Now understand that it’s over for tonight. We must meet new girls. Tomorrow night she’ll blow up your phone, probably after 6:00.”

“Are you sure?”

“While I don’t like to guarantee anything involving female behavior, I absolutely guarantee that she’ll contact you tomorrow. This move never fails to help a man regain the upper hand.”

We waited in line for at least fifteen minutes, pumped at the prospect of meeting some new girls, when suddenly Paul came up to us. “Where did you go?” he said. In the back of the line was everyone from the party, including Camilla.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! What do I do now?” Henrik said.

“Oh, man, you’re fucked,” I said. “This has never happened before. You weren’t supposed to see her for the rest of the night.”

“No shit!”

“Did you tell anyone you were coming here?” Copenhagen was too big a city for such a coincidence to occur.

“Well, I told Paul earlier that we should come here.”

I shook my head in disgust, wondering if the beta male in him had subconsciously sabotaged the move. We walked into the bar, leaving them still waiting in line.

“Look, just don’t make eye contact with her. If she comes up to you, say, ‘Yeah I intended to come back, but then I realized we weren’t having a good time, so I decided to stay with Roosh. I didn’t want to have my whole night ruined.’”

I actually rehearsed it with him twice by pretending to be Camilla. Since asshole game wasn’t in him, I didn’t want to take any more chances.

Through sheer luck, Henrik recognized a girl he had fucked in the past. He talked to her just long enough for the time it took Camilla to come in and witness it.

Henrik eventually came back to me and said, “Let’s forget the move. I want to talk to Camilla and smooth things over.”

Doing so would have completely demolished the value he had gained from the ditch move, so I convinced him that the best course of action was to leave. I began doubting that he was even capable of running the ditch move to its completion. I felt that giving him the move was like giving a nuclear bomb to a country that didn’t have any missiles to launch it.

We went to a seedy bar close my house. The American bartender hooked me up with a whiskey on the rocks that was filled almost all the way to the top. The first Danish girl I talked to said, “What weak drink are you having? Just ginger ale?” I insisted she take a sip and she nearly choked on the drink, something I thoroughly enjoyed.

It took only three days in Denmark to tell my first Danish girl to fuck off. I put zero effort into tempering my character to better mesh with their combative and aggressive personalities. My beginning game wasn’t trying to figure out how to bang Danish girls, but approaching in huge quantities to find one “normal” girl who wanted to have fast sex with a confident, slightly arrogant man. That turned out to be a fool’s errand.

Attempts to share my stories with them failed because it made it seem like I knew more than they did, breaking the cultural rules set forth in Jante Law. Things got worse when I offered my conclusions or generalizations based on those experiences. I couldn’t even insinuate my positive qualities, which is a big chunk of what seduction is about. The parts of my game that had helped me get laid elsewhere were completely useless when it came to the average Danish girl.

By the night of the party, I had only been in Denmark for two weeks, but I had already started to miss Iceland. It’s true that the girls there don’t have a whole lot to say and are just as combative, but at least they’ll fuck you. I put up with Icelandic girls because I knew I would be rewarded with fast sex, but Danish girls give you a lot of shit before they give up the pussy. Because Danish girls are so alpha, any attempt at being alpha yourself will only lead to conflict. Up to that point, the only cool chick I met out of a couple dozen approaches was a shy girl who lived on a farm.

At the end of the night, I got into a conversation with a girl I immediately pegged as bitter. I held the line and she finally opened up when she mentioned that she painted in her spare time. I took an interest in it and she showed me a picture of one of her most recent paintings on her iPhone. I looked and made a nice comment about the colors. Then she said, “Well I don’t care what you think since I do it for myself.”

I went ballistic. I called her “fucking insane” for showing me something with the intention of discounting any reaction she would receive. I ended my tirade with, “You must be single.” I looked at her friend and said, “Your friend is single, right?”

“Yes.”

Earlier in the conversation, I noticed two Icelandic girls I had talked to earlier, off in the distance smoking cigarettes. I remembered how my Iceland bangs went down: hitting up a girl at the end of the night for an instant venue change to my apartment. Those girls could smoke on their walk home; they didn’t have to wait there. I concluded that they were waiting for a pair of guys to swoop them up.

For some reason, I continued talking to the Danish artist, even though I knew she was a lost cause. By the time of the iPhone moment, the Icelandic girls were gone. I passed on a good opportunity to have sex in order to talk to a girl whose main goal was showing that she didn’t care about what I thought.

The next day, Camilla contacted Henrik at 4:30 in the afternoon. He didn’t answer, as I had instructed him. She called two more times, and eventually they got into a chat on Facebook. I was online at the same time, telling him exactly what to write. While he regained the upper hand, she was too tough and combative in subsequent encounters, never lowering her aggression to allow humor to bring them back together.

The problem, I told Henrik, was she had become too Danish.

I made a response video the criticisms coming out of Denmark. Click here to watch.

Night game should be any strapping young man’s bread and butter. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t be able to visit a bar or club to pull pussy for the night. Unless… every venue is a fucking sausage fest.

Going by my hypothesis that all the attractive women left Denmark to pursue a modeling career, what remains in Copenhagen is tons of sausage. It was rare to see less than a 2:1 ratio of males to females, but often it was much higher. The only time I experienced a favorable ratio was when I mistakenly went to a lesbian bar. The amount of sausage was close to unbelievable, and definitely worse than Washington DC.

Another negative hit to night game is that most bars allow smoking. It wouldn’t be so bad if there were actually decent women amid the clouds of smoke, but that wasn’t the case. My typical night in Copenhagen was drinking in a smoky bar with a ton of dudes and ugly, masculine girls.

The optimum night game to have is this: nice guy who approaches a lot and isn’t shy about going for the one-night stand. I understand that this is a bit contradictory, since nice guys don’t go for one-night stands, but that’s the best way I can put it. Be aggressive about approaching and sealing the deal, but be passive and slightly meek while in conversation. It’s better to be a generic, neutral, pleasant guy who wishes for world peace than one who has strong opinions and wants to share deep wisdom gleaned from a lifetime of rich experiences. Don’t rock the boat if you want to get laid in Denmark.

So what do you talk about? What do you share opinions on? Anything but Denmark. If you want to talk about Denmark, frame it so that you’re asking her for help, not that you’re sharing observations. From a getting-laid standpoint, being self-deprecating about your own country to fit her stereotypes is much better than criticizing hers.

What I ended up doing was complimenting the things about Denmark I liked: the kebab shops and the cradle-to-grave services. I lamented how I didn’t have health care and how everything in Denmark seemed fair. This went over really well because it validated the superior feelings she had about her country. She would then modestly bash Denmark so that Jante Law karma was preserved. Simply nod your head as if you’re a student of her land (nodding is tight game in Denmark, if you haven’t already figured out).

To get along great with Danish girls, I would have to regress to a beta male, which is what I was back in the year 2000. Even if Danish girls were worth making that change for, which they’re definitely not, it would take years of work to go back to being a scared little boy. In other words, if you’re an alpha male, you’ll only be able to make window dressing adjustments that will still put you far away from having the optimal nice guy game to connect with Danish women.

Even if you keep your nod game tight and don’t accidentally turn girls off with comments that seem innocent to you, there’s no guarantee you’ll be sexually successful. There were too many times where I saw a Danish guy with top 1% nod game only get a chick’s number before watching her ride home alone on her bicycle. While I do think a nicer Roosh would have gotten laid more in Denmark, I’m skeptical if it would have caused me to love the country instead of hating it with all my being.

Approaching

Indirect game will be your best bet, since the girls are so cold that they won’t know how to handle your direct game. The good thing about Denmark is that the indirect approach style I use in the States remains effective. Feel free to bring out your more creative openers.

Be a little bit careful about giving too many humorous responses to the personal questions they ask, because Danish girls are very sensitive to cocky humor. By not answering directly, she may think you’re making fun of her, thereby breaking Jante Law. My advice is to give one playful answer and then calibrate to see if she went along with your joke or not.

When a girl asked me what I was doing in Denmark, I would say, “I bought a farm in Jutland. It’s always been my dream to be a farmer.” Some girls would give me a stone face, as if saying, “Look, asshole, just cut the shit and tell me what the fuck you’re doing here.” In that case, if you still want to talk to her, you’ll have to be more “boring” with your conversation by giving direct answers. The younger girls usually get taken in by humorous responses, which you can milk for a while before revealing the truth.

Opening girls should be easy for you, because your opener will be “normal” and not some of the lame shit Danish guys say or do. They approach toward the end of the night with stupid drunk game, increasing female bitch shields as the night goes on (this is a reason why I advise going early).

One time I saw a Danish guy open a girl by getting on his hands and knees and crawling between her legs. He went through, stood up, and tried to dance with her, but the frightened girl quickly rebuffed him. I almost dropped the drink out of my hand from pure shock. That’s the level of game you’ll have to beat in Denmark.

Conversation & Escalation

Starting conversations will be pretty easy because of your exotic status. Color me surprised at how interested girls were to know that I was from America (apparently not a lot of Americans visit Denmark). The fact that we’re in Denmark, when most Americans don’t even know that Denmark is a country, helps set us apart from our countrymen.

What didn’t help was that I’d usually get cockblocked during the rare times when things were going well, almost with the same frequency as in America. Danish girls have such a hardcore feeling of loyalty towards each other that they’re reluctant to ditch their girlfriends for a chance to get laid. More than anywhere else I’ve visited, it seemed like maintaining group cohesion throughout the night was important, whereas in America most nights end with some type of drama of who left who and whether Stacy is so drunk again she’s going to be a slut and fuck some guy without a condom. Even Danish guys had this group cohesion, sacrificing their own dick for the sake of being a “good” friend. Morons.

Just like in America, I recommend you feel for the kiss on the same night you meet. If you’re at a bar during the weekend where alcohol is involved and you’re having a conversation that isn’t interrupted often, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t get a kiss from a girl under the two-hour mark. For an average Danish girl, two hours is a sweet spot for the length of time it takes to kiss her, assuming she likes you and you know what you’re doing.

The biggest problem in getting one-night stands is logistics. Since all girls ride their bicycles to the bar or club, it becomes a pain in the ass for them to ditch the bike, go home with someone, and then pick it up the next morning. For a guy, having to pick up his bicycle the morning after getting laid is no big deal, but girls are overly worried about their precious hipster bikes and deathly averse to taking an expensive cab (medium-length rides are more than $20 US). One thing you can do is suggest that both of you ride to your place, but if she lives far from you, she’ll be resistant. Only if she is really horny will she be willing to overcome bad bicycle logistics, which is already stacked on top of the group loyalty problem I just mentioned.

The best logistical solution to the bicycle problem is to live within walking distance of where her bike is parked. When it’s time to go for the afterparty move by inviting her over for a drink, you’ll state how you live only “five minutes walking distance” away. The hamster in her brain likes this because she knows that regardless of what happens in your place, she won’t be far from her bike.

Therefore when it comes time to game at night, go to spots that are near your place, even if it’s not as good as a more distant spot. More than half of the battle in banging a Danish girl from night game is logistics, so get that settled from the start. When she asks where you’re staying early in a conversation, you better believe she’ll note your “down the street” answer in her head.

Hater Routine

My hypocrite hater routine was meant to trap a girl who was trying to call me out for generalizing about Denmark. Early in a conversation, I’d make one of my observations about the country with a barely perceptible tone of annoyance. I’d say, “I’ve noticed that everyone in Denmark likes to wear earthy colors, like doo-doo brown and dark green. Also, the girls here are big fans of dirty military boots.” The girl would get annoyed at that statement because I used the word “everyone.” There is nothing a Danish girl hates more than when you generalize or stereotype, especially her own gender.

After she told me I needed to open my eyes to the awesomely unique and androgynous Danish style, I would offer a pseudo-apology: “I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”

Let a couple minutes go by then tell her you’re planning a trip to Poland. Say, “I hear the girls there are very nice and charming.” Since Danes look down on Poles, she’ll say something to the effect that Poles are dumb, trashy, or ugly. Now you’ve got the bitch. Say, “You’re stereotyping an entire country even though you criticized me for doing the same just a couple minutes ago. Are all Danish girls hypocrites?” Before she can respond, finish her off by saying, “In America, there’s nothing we hate more than a hypocrite.” Shake your head sideways as if you pity her, then turn away. Fatality. While I don’t expect women to have much in the way of character, they should at least be consistent.

Long-Form Dating

If you’ve dated in America, you’ve dated in Denmark—it’s just about the same shit. Text a girl two to four days after meeting her to plan for a first date around Wednesday at a bar near your place. Run your standard game without any cockiness and escalate from there.

Danish girls definitely open up more after they’ve known you for a while, so don’t worry if you’ll run out of things to say or not. Just let her tell you all her crazy opinions while nodding and casually touching. Go for a venue change to your place at the end of the night or try to weasel your way into hers.

The bright side is that girls are sincere in insisting to pay their share, unlike the fake “Oh I can pay” thing American girls do. Danish girls feel empowered in being able to afford their own alcohol, and thankfully the chance of banging her won’t go down if she contributes like may be the case with American girls. Being too heavy-handed with your insistence to pay the entire check actually breaks Jante Law because you’re implying that she’s poor or that you have more money than her. Let her pay.

Even though I’ve just described to you the basics of sleeping with Danish women, my hope is that you’ll never have to use this advice. My Danish friend Henrik did hint that Copenhagen wouldn’t have what I wanted, but I was arrogant in thinking that I could overcome all odds with my experience and game skill to find a diamond in the rough. What a fool I was. If I lived in Copenhagen, I estimate it would take one year to land the caliber of woman that would only take me two or three weeks to find in Brazil or Poland. Thank god I’ll never know for sure.

The best indicator of whether you’ll like Denmark or not is if you enjoy American girls who lean toward the hipster side. If that’s the case, you’ll probably enjoy Danish girls, since they are less fat than American girls. They’re a tad harder to get into the sack, mostly due to logistical issues, but other than that you shouldn’t experience any additional difficulty. God bless you if you prefer masculine women who dress sloppily, because the pool of available women you can date in first-world nations is much larger than for me.

I’d understand if you wanted to move to Denmark to raise a family, but if you still want to visit with sex as your primary goal, consider yourself warned. I ignored all warnings and proceeded to needlessly endure two months in a country that made me miserable. Believe me when I say that I’ve learned my lesson.

—

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

Don’t Bang Denmark was recently the subject of a panel discussion on a Danish morning show. Click here to watch.

There are only three types of Danish girls that I’ve noticed: the perma-student, the older woman, and the mom.

You know those people that have been students for what seems like forever, always working on a master’s or PhD? That’s your first category, the perma-student. Since the government pays for education, a Danish person would be stupid not to achieve the highest level possible, especially since in Denmark there is a strong correlation between years of education and income.

It will be rare to meet a girl under 26 who has a full-time job and is not in school at least part time. It’s great that she’s investing in her future, but the problem for you is that liberal universities destroy a woman’s femininity. The more years she spends in them, the less likely she will be able to please you, physically and emotionally.

Since Danish girls spend much more time in universities than American girls, I’m sad to conclude that American girls are more feminine than Danish girls. Yes, it’s true, I’ve found a species that is even more masculine than American women. After accounting for the fact that Danish girls aren’t as slutty as American or Icelandic girls, I hope you’re beginning to see that we have a real problem on our hands.

An annoying feature of the perma-student is that she has a chip on her shoulder. Even though she hasn’t worked a hard day in her life and has had her hand held by the government every step of the way, she thinks her education has given her everything she needs to know about the world, including your own country. She thinks that her time in school is a superior substitute for real-life experience.

I had cases where, in the process of obtaining sex from a Danish girl, she said some outrageous shit that offended my sensibilities so greatly that I had to terminate the interaction by telling her what a retard she was. It’s a bad sign when an American has to tell someone of another country they’re being arrogant, since we’re generally the most arrogant assholes on Earth.

The second type of Danish “girl” is the older woman, starting at 30 years of age. She’s finally done with school and ready to settle down, but is finding it harder to get guys since she has zero femininity units left (she used them all up during the decade she spent in college). The main problem is that her looks have faded and she never lost the freshman twenty. She’s reduced to trolling Internet dating sites with high contrast photos that hide what the unmerciful hands of time have done to her face.

While I don’t like older women, in Denmark they were great for breaking slumps since getting them into bed was easier and more straightforward with less flakiness. This type of girl is easiest to fuck, but you’ll regret it in the morning. I know I did.

The final type of Danish girl is the mom. While she can be young, I usually saw them in their late twenties. Motherhood has reignited her femininity and she will probably be more pleasing than her motherless counterparts. You will find the occasional MILF, but expect to see some serious degradation to her face.

You’re most likely going to encounter the perma-student during your stay, especially if you head to popular bars and clubs for gaming at night. I find that younger girls who are around 21 will be the most enjoyable to talk to because they aren’t as outspoken. The sweetest and kindest girls I talked to were all young.

The worst girls are around twenty-five, an age when they think they know everything. They will be the first to call you out on your game or to give you shit. By the second week in Copenhagen I got into four heated arguments with Danish girls after two months in Iceland without having one. For you, the most pleasant interactions will come from the youngest Danish girls you can find. Troll the high school if you have to.

—

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

Danish women possess no flirting ability. They have zero charm and zero allure. Not a feminine drop of blood courses through their veins. They don’t know how to treat you well, cook for you, or make you laugh. They don’t know how to look sexy. They won’t defer to your masculinity. They can fuck you, but no more. What they do have are pussies and opinions you really don’t care about hearing. That’s it. Denmark takes top prize for having the most unfeminine and androgynous robotic women I’ve met in the world.

Since she’s unable to flirt, a Danish girl doesn’t know how to show interest, and thinks that doing so would be showing weakness. She won’t go out of her way to make you feel like a man. She’s just… there, wasting space in a bar that could be better used by the cute foreign hookers mingling right outside.

Speaking of hookers, I’m not exaggerating when I say they are more charming than Danish girls. They consistently made me smile. On lonely walks home when they approached me for my money, they said things ten times funnier than anything I heard from a Danish girl.

If you’re stuck in Copenhagen and want something that reminds you of what a woman should be, your best bet is to find a foreign girl who has been in Denmark for less than one year. Otherwise you’ll get yourself a corrupted specimen of a woman that will make you less happy than your run-of-the-mill American girl who insists on wearing flip-flops twenty-four hours a day. It’s that bad.

Even the Danish girls who have somehow escaped the corrupting influence of the androgynous culture (she’ll probably be from Jutland) will have some random masculine quality that fucks everything up. She’ll look good from across the bar, maybe even slightly sexy, but when you interact with her you’ll discover that she has a deep voice. Or she has man hands. Or she moves like a man. Or she has a slight mustache. Or she is arrogant like a man. I’ve met girls in Denmark who were more masculine than me, and I’m the hairiest, horniest motherfucker I know. I’m barely exaggerating when I say that mimicking Danish women has taught me how me to be a stronger man.

Initially a Danish girl will be somewhat reserved, but it takes no more than fifteen minutes for her true outspoken nature to shine. Since a Danish girl thinks she’s an expert on everything, be prepared to get educated on matters your feeble brain can’t possibly comprehend. You’re going to hear the wackiest, most liberal opinions you’ve ever heard in your life (e.g., “The state should supply and inject heroin addicts with pure drug in a safe environment that is also provided by the state”). Take the most liberal shit you learned in college and multiply it by fifty to get a feeling for what you’re going to hear in Denmark.

If you don’t want to bang a Danish girl, disagree with her. While this may build attraction with American girls, for Danish girls it completely shuts off the pussy faucet. They want the role of the alpha while you’re left with the role of the dopey beta. Therefore if you want sex you’re best served by simply nodding or asking her more questions so that she talks enough to make your ears bleed. You will hate yourself for doing this.

If you don’t like a girl, just question what she says, tell her she’s wrong, and enjoy the argument. In Denmark, the girl is always right and it’s the guy’s job to validate her stupid beliefs long enough to get her into bed. Again, while in America, nodding along won’t get you laid, in Denmark it will. She wants an obedient little puppy dog, not a challenge who sees her as the idiot she really is.

Danish girls don’t like masculinity, cockiness, or outspoken guys. Because of Jante Law, any attempt on your part to even indirectly show that you’re more experienced, knowledgeable, or smarter than her will terminate the interaction. Even if you’re definitely more experienced than her (she’s likely to only be a student, after all), you must pretend that you’re both equal. I don’t care if you’re ten years older than her and have lived in a dozen locations around the world after succeeding at a million-dollar business built from scratch, but you must treat the stupid opinions of a 23-year-old Danish girl with reverence and respect if you want to get laid. In other words, you have to sell yourself out for pussy.

Yes, I did this. I sold out. I nodded along to a stupid girl’s opinions to get laid. I feel ashamed for doing it, but I got my nut every time and never called any of those girls again. Maybe I did come out on top a little.

A big problem is that just about everything offends a Danish girl, especially if you make casual observations about her culture, whether positive or negative. She doesn’t believe in stereotypes or generalizations at all. She has the belief that everyone is a completely unique snowflake and any attempt to generalize is wrong and offensive. The irony of this is that Danish people are so incredibly homogenous and alike due to Denmark being a strong conformist culture that they’re the easiest people to generalize about. When girls told me not to generalize, and I noticed that they were basically carbon copies of one another, I concluded it was a case of the lady doth protest too much. If you interact with one Danish girl, you might as well have interacted with them all.

The thing that pissed me off the most about Danish women was their hypocrisy. Like I’ve mentioned previously, they will bash anything non-Danish, expecting you to sit there and take it, but the moment you make even a mild criticism about their culture, they’re ready to call the police.

For example, it was common for a Danish girl to joke that Americans like cheeseburgers and French fries. She’s indirectly saying that Americans are fat. I get it, and I don’t care, because Americans are fat and I personally love cheeseburgers and French fries. I would counter her observation with one of my own by saying, “We love hamburgers, but you guys like the kebabs. Those places are everywhere.” Pretty innocuous comment, right? Wrong. The Danish girl gets offended and counters with, “No, Danish food culture is quite varied. You’re not looking hard enough to find other places.” Really, bitch? There would be no less than four kebab shacks within a stone’s throw.

There are so many kebab shacks in Copenhagen that if an alien landed in Denmark he’d conclude that kebabs, shawarmas, and gyros have been Danish cuisine staples for thousands of years. I’d ask Danish people what their typical cuisine is and they’d give me an answer like “thick wheat bread with meat on it.” In other words, sandwiches. Yeah, real indigenous. They’d rather die than admit that a “stupid American” got them pegged.

It’s the girls’ denial of reality (in exchange for an ultra-liberal worldview) that made it least enjoyable to spend time with them. They use conversation as a way to display the superiority of their beliefs, not hesitating for a second to immediately strike down anything you say. While she has a right to do that, the real-world effect is that blood rushes out of your penis. Talking to a Danish girl has the same effect on your dick as going for a dip in a cold swimming pool.

I could bite my lip for a couple hours just to get my dick wet, but the second after I ejaculated I could no longer put up with it. This means that I didn’t get one repeat bang during my entire stay in Denmark, simply because I couldn’t tolerate the girls any longer.

I had to “reset” my tolerability clock by hitting on new pussy, which unfortunately was almost exactly the same as old pussy. I was miserable. I dealt with my predicament by offending as many girls as I could and getting them ensnared in my “you’re a hypocrite” trap. My favorite bit was to say how Danish girls were the least feminine I’ve ever met and how I couldn’t wait to leave such an androgynous country. I got more satisfaction from bitching out Danish girls than actually fucking them, because one made me feel like a man and the other a pathetic sellout.

Sadly, the dynamic of insulting girls instead of banging them was similar to what I had with American girls, though at least the latter liked masculine, outspoken guys. If you’re a sniveling beta male, Denmark could be your heaven since you have the vibe that Danish girls like, but if you respect yourself and have trouble keeping your mouth shut when people are bullshitting you, Denmark will not be pleasant.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

Here are the ten rules of Jante Law:

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

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

Painfully boring conversations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Government’s Role As Mother And Father

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

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

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

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

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

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

—