The King Of Warsaw (Part 1 of 2)

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.”


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