Ever since VK wrote “Two Men” (great post) I’ve wanted to expand a bit on his analogy, particularly for dudes who find themselves in the situation of the second dude.
So let’s say you are the second dude, and you’re looking at the first dude and wondering why he’s so good at what he does, so one day you finally break down and ask him. He tells you to get off the computer and start doing shit like weightlifting, dressing better, flirting with every girl in your vicinity, and working on pursuits and skills that improve your awesomeness. While he didn’t really offer you anything specific like lines or routines or any of that magical stuff he was spitting last weekend, you decide that, fine, you’ll give it a shot. You mark this day on the calendar- today is the day you start your journey.
To boost your sociability, maybe you start going out more, talk to strangers, and open chicks at the grocery store. You’ve finally decided you really want to get rid of that invisible anti-socializing shield that you need alcohol to bring down.
To work on your aesthetics you hit the gym on a near daily basis and cut shitty foods out of your diet. Maybe you join local leagues for softball or football or ultimate frisbee to become more active as well (giving you more opportunities to expand your friends and prospective chicks as well).
To improve your presentability, you turn your shitty shirts to cut offs for the gym and invest in good stuff to wear out like v-necks, blazers, and maybe even a suit. You know your appearance hasn’t quite been on point and you need to switch things up.
Lastly, you find a pursuit(s) that brings you pleasure and improves you in some way. In “Two Men”, the first dude was learning Russian. For others it could be restoring old cars, writing of some kind, whatever. Something challenging, stimulating and wholly unrelated to women that you do for yourself.
At first progress isn’t amazing. You still come up against old barriers and resistance from old habits, but you make a conscious effort to push a little and do things that are new and possibly intimidating. Nonetheless, your persistence pays off and you get a date. Nice.
On the date you run through options and angles. You wonder at various points when to escalate, referencing Roosh or old school Roissy in your mind for game plans and if-then scenarios. You wait for “shit tests” so that you can pass them with your wit. You make sure you’re chilled out and not acting needy, and you even pull off a successful venue switch to keep things going. As the night draws to a close, you make out and she gives you a handy in your car before heading into her apartment.
Invigorated, you continue forward because you’re starting to suspect this is just the beginning. A few weeks pass, and in that time you’ve managed, among some back-to-earth failures and another date with Miss Handy, to get a new girl out on a date. Whereas on the first date with Miss Handy you were hyperaware of the situation and if-then scenarios, now you find that you aren’t needing to reference shit you’ve read nearly as much. Instead of telling yourself to chill, you *are* actually just chillin. When you take her home, you remember to use the bathroom line and before you know it you’re banging. Congrats.
Still, you know this isn’t all there is. You’re just beginning to get a taste. You push forward, excited for all the possibilities.
Fast forward a year. Your veins are starting to pop and those v-necks you bought highlight your traps and chest. Your hobby gives you great pleasure in your downtime and sometimes you don’t even want to kick it with women. Miss Handy fell apart, but you’ve been on other dates like with that chick from co-ed slow pitch, some chick you met at a bar, and that girl you saw every day at the coffee shop, all of whom you exchanged carnal passions with. You still see the second chick from time to time, and have even gotten a couple one nighters.
By all measures, you should be happy with your progress. And you would be pretty happy if it wasn’t for your recent failures, which have been increasing rather than decreasing. They weren’t like failures from before where chicks backturned you right away or ignored you after the first date. You’re getting shots and you’re following that playbook you started out with, so why are you failing? You’re negging her and blowing up “shit tests” and being that asshole you got so much success with earlier, but now they’re backing off or giving you stand offish looks and calling you a dick without any playfulness.
Maybe, you start to wonder, maybe just maybe something is wrong with the rulebook. After getting slapped the previous night, you can’t stop thinking about it. It nags at you every day. Certain thoughts creep in, seemingly heretical in nature. Maybe the playbook is stupid? Maybe it sucks? Nah, remember where you came from. But… maybe the playbook/rulebook was made for people who need rules, for those who need set plays and guidance? What if you don’t need those anymore? What if you’ve outgrown capital G “Game”?
A year later you wake up and turn to your calendar. Two years. Your past self would have no idea who the fuck that raffishly handsome, well groomed, jacked, well dressed dude is staring back at him in the mirror. You check your phone and have two “good morning!! :)” texts from chicks you’ve been seeing. Just last night a different girl broke it off with you (at least for now) because she saw you with someone else, and while you’re disappointed you know that tonight is Friday. You’ll be with your crew at the bar where you’ve become good friends with the manager and he always hooks it up phat.
At the bar, you see this hottie eyeing you two tables down, but before you can even make your approach she pops up behind you and introduces herself. Your buddy knows the score and leaves immediately, and you draw her close while getting to know each other’s names and stuff like that. After a mere two minutes, you are making out already and she’s feeling your arms. As if on autopilot, you guide her to the barstools where you can sit close, drink, and enjoy each other’s company. Even though she’s new, nothing else about this interaction is. You smile, laugh, even compliment her a couple times because after all, she does look very nice tonight. You have forgotten what a “shit test” is because you haven’t gotten one in forever, or at least if you have you didn’t even care to notice. You take her to a nearby club because you enjoy getting your grind on in low lighting, and by one o’clock she’s in your bedroom, taking her clothes off.
The next morning, mildly hungover but otherwise feeling great, you check in on those blogs you used to read religiously but hardly any of it resonates with you anymore. Not that there is anything wrong with any of it, but as a custom built machine you know exactly what you do or don’t need to do to the point that even thinking about it does more harm than good.
After some pressure from a buddy you introduced to Game awhile back, you spill the beans on last night’s activities. In disbelief, he wonders aloud how you did it. What did you say? What did you do? How did you do it? What’s the secret?
You try to articulate it, but it all seems so natural now that you’re not even really sure what you do anymore. For the last year you’ve just been meeting chicks, following whatever rules you want, and taking them home. You look him up and down-
“Dude you gotta start lifting weights. Get some new clothes. I know you’re shy, but you’ve got to start talking to more people and flirting with any chick you can. And, dude, you gotta stop spending all day on the computer.”