Losing Your Way

I went to Iceland in the middle of winter. I was immediately struck by the isolation—the city was dead and I had no one to talk to compared to my time in South America when I always had a buddy around. I used to go out solo dolo only occasionally but now I was doing it exclusively. I began to develop strategies to get laid at night without having to use any wingmen.

As my European trip progressed, I decided that rolling solo was the way to go. The proof was in the girls I was banging, often within an hour or two, from all types of clubs. I discovered that there is anxiety in standing alone at the club, and you relieve that anxiety by doing approaches (when you’re with a friend, you have a comfortable home base that actually makes you approach less). My results indisputably showed that I simply got laid much more when rolling solo. Soon, my social life soon consisted almost entirely of banging random girls with little male friendship.

My social skills remained high, because of all the game I was running, but my ability to be a friend declined and I was losing the ability to wing. I became more impatient and insular. I just wanted to get my dick wet as quickly as possible. I didn’t need friendship anymore—I transcended friendship. Not having friends freed up a lot of time: I published 9 books in less than two years, the most productive period of my life. My income rose and I was getting laid. I felt successful.

Inevitably my interest in notches declined. Not that I was becoming less horny, but I was reluctant to put in work to get something I’ve experienced so many times before. I had expected this, and decided that when it would happen, I’d double down on writing with a goal to earn more, even though I was making enough for my needs.

I launched Return Of Kings, which takes quite a bit of time. I was also working on three simultaneous books. I was excited that my productivity was going even higher. I was going to build an empire! Chasing girls too hard was a waste of time, just like friendship was. I had started developing symptoms of carpal tunnel in my right wrist. Instead of taking a step back and thinking about what was happening, I bought an ergonomic mouse so I could work even more.

When I moved to Lublin, I banged two girls in my first month and put them in rotation, not so much because I was in love with them, but because I didn’t want to have to go out much. My first trip to Poland had me going out four or more times a week. Now it was once. I was getting laid at least once a week and making cash. Life was great.

I released Bang Ukraine in January and the launch was my biggest yet. My entire life was going according to plan. At the end of that month I did my usual accounting and was pleased at all the sales I made. It was time to blow a couple hundred and celebrate.

I went through my phone. There was only one male friend in it, but he was in Warsaw, three hours away. All my friends were in random European, American, or South American cities. No problem—I got the two girls to hang with. I texted both. One was sick and the other didn’t reply. No problem—I’ll go to the club and find a new girl to celebrate with. I’ll get some new pussy.

In the first club I got hit with four blowouts in a row. Rustiness alone couldn’t explain that result so I went to another club that was packed with girls. It barely got better. I got out-gamed by teams of guys who could occupy cockblockers when I couldn’t. I used to love rolling solo because it was easy to get laid, but now I wished I had a wing.

Even if I did succeed that night and get laid, which I didn’t, I wondered who would I share the story with. If a man bangs a pretty girl in an Eastern European shithole and has no one to tell, did the bang make a sound?

I thought back to my previous decade of game and how the reward of it wasn’t necessarily in the sex act but in the bonding with men who were either there to witness it or help me. I got more satisfaction banging an average girl with a friend working by my side than banging a hottie alone with nothing but raw effort. I won’t deny that I have a strong biological desire to get laid, but that desire alone doesn’t justify the amount of work I’ve put into game. It was the male camaraderie that made it worth pursuing more than I would have.

I went home that night and logged onto the forum. Lots of activity, like usual. I checked my blog and there were many new comments to sift through. I had several new emails and Twitter replies. Usually this would provide me with some social validation, but not tonight. It felt abstract, almost fake. The money I made the previous month was abstract, too. It was just numbers on a screen that I couldn’t even spend because I had no one to spend it with. I might as well be living my life on the internet in the form of page views, comments, forum posts, and book sales.

I turned off my computer. I thought back to Brazil, when I lived in a favela. I was broke but chased more girls with my Danish roommate than while in Lublin, where I made a far more superior income. I remember how I told myself that I wanted to live in a nice apartment within a city of beautiful women and not have to take buses at night. I accomplished that task, but I was less content than I thought I would be.

I imagined how things would be in ten years if I continued. I would have a lot of money, probably. I would publish 30 books and get 10 million page views a month. But I saw myself alone, in a remote castle in some strange part of the world, with no social interaction besides a rotating door of women who I didn’t care much for and internet friends who would give me e-props via funny reaction gifs. It’s possible to have women, friendship, and money, but it seemed like I was running the common American program of just trying to stack paper because I didn’t know what else to do.

I went to bed that night satisfied. I was satisfied because I caught myself before it was too late to make a change. I knew that my priority wasn’t to make more money. My income was already sufficient. It wasn’t to mindlessly bang more girls in some shithole city, either. It was something that I used to have in the past, but gradually lost. I wanted to get it back, yet at the same time I knew that it wouldn’t be easy to turn back the clock to a time when I had different habits and needs. I wasn’t sure if it was worth fighting a wave that was taking me in a new direction.

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