Before I get to the heart of the matter today, I’ve got something I want to touch on briefly. I’ve been thinking about all the bullshit that I have seen in the “Manosphere” for awhile now. I’ve been a part of this “thing” since about late 2017 or early 2018. What goes around, comes around. The only thing that I have come to the conclusion is that the “Manosphere” isn’t a “gay nightclub,” which is what a lot of guys jokingly referred to it as. No, it’s a “gay monastery.”

Nowhere else outside of a Bishop’s office (Mormon church for those who are wondering) have I encountered so many men who are worried about what other men are doing, or not doing with their dicks. (Porn “addiction.”) Here’s your “gay” part of the equation. Whatever another man does or doesn’t do with his dick is none of my business. I don’t want to know and I don’t care.

Now on to the “monastery” part. Nowhere outside of social media have I encountered so many guys jumping through hoops, throwing out copes, and doing everything in their power to not get laid. Semen retention, sunning your asshole, taking cold showers, drinking black coffee, and doing TRT is just a few examples. Guys, if you haven’t had sex in over a year, it’s a choice.

It’s far too easy to get laid today. You can thank feminism for that. It’s far easier for me to get laid in today’s world than it was when I was in my 20’s. I’m now 50. You all know I’m short, bald, don’t have six pack abs, and I don’t have “bank.” But I know how to banter and flirt with women and it doesn’t bother me if and when they reject me. Seriously guys, I’m average at best. And yet I’m having sex with 20 something’s all the way up to women in their 50’s. I’m seeing women from different countries, backgrounds, and cultures. Thank god for the internet and online dating.

Guys. Seriously. If I can do this, you can too.

Which brings me to today’s heart of the matter.

Look at the screen shot that I posted at the beginning of this article. Read it and then read it again. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

You back? Good.

Where in that screen shot did that woman mention money? Other than the guy that haunts her pussy and her dreams keeps his salary in a shoebox and doesn’t pay taxes, it sounds like he doesn’t have much money. And yet she keeps dwelling on him. Her description of him is hyperbolic and extreme for sure and I imagine that she is exaggerating to one degree or another, and yet, it’s also oddly specific.

I’ve had zero women care about my money or the lack of it. Zero. Zilch. Zip. Nada. None. Not a one. You don’t need money to be successful with women. In fact, worrying about having money to impress women is a provisioning trait. You are showing her that you would be a good provider. It’s “beta” in the land of “alpha.” It will signal stability but it won’t get her panties wet. Provisioning doesn’t induce “the tingles.” Worst case scenario, it will attract “gold diggers.”

If you lead with money, don’t be surprised if she starts seeing you as a provider instead of a lover. Don’t be surprised if and when she wants to “make you wait” for sex. Don’t be surprised if she starts sizing you up as “husband material.” Don’t be surprised if she’s only interested in you for your money if you start off with flashing cash or your bitcoin portfolio or buying her dinner.

Jack Napier did an interview a while back with a “PUA” who literally was living out of a van. The guy was getting more ass than a toilet seat. He’s literally the guy in that screen shot. And speaking of Jack Napier, I have a treat for you all. Jack is going to be joining me here on my blog from time to time as he has expressed an interest in doing some writing. So not only will you be getting stuff from me, but you’ll be getting stuff from Jack on occasion. So stay tuned for that. I don’t know about you, but I’m excited about his debut here.

“You need to stack cash, brah.”

But to what end? Why are you “stacking cash?” As men, we don’t need or want for much as far as survival goes. We don’t need a lot of money to do the things we like to do. We don’t tend to buy a lot of shit and making memories is either cheap or free if you know what you are doing.

So why “stack cash?”

For the women.

It’s one of the ways that we signal our value to them. It’s also a provisioning signal. Keep that in mind.

What do you want to be? A lover? Or a provider? There is a world of difference between the two.

Anyone who has been following my blog/site for awhile knows that I use Online Dating almost exclusively. I neither have the time, energy, or money to be chasing women around on the street, the grocery store, or in bars (“Day Game/Cold Approach” or “Night Game.”) Yes, I’m aware of the shortcomings of Online Dating and I’m fully aware that Online Dating can be a “buffer” from actual interactions with women. This isn’t a post about “what is ‘king’ when it comes to meeting women.”

This is a post about how most texting advice is complete garbage.

The only advice I have found written down somewhere else by someone else that has been effective is the “2/3rd’s Rule” by Roissy. That rule basically states that you give her 2/3rd’s of what she gives you. So less is more. I do agree with this. Most of the other shit I’ve seen is useless at best and will get you stepping on your own dick at worst. Too many guys complicating something that isn’t that complicated.

Here’s why most texting advice is garbage:

It’s not context dependent.

Every woman and every context is going to be different. Some women have a lot of time on their hands and spend a lot of time texting. Some have lives, jobs, and offline activities and don’t have a lot of time to text. You won’t know unless you get to know her, which is the paradox.

So “what to do?”

Other than the “2/3rd’s Rule,” I say do whatever works. There are no rules.

A more recent example that came up for me was matching with a woman from Venezuela. Her English is terrible, but it’s better than my Spanish. She comes from a completely different culture. She works two jobs. One full time and another that is practically full time. She doesn’t have a lot of time to be hanging around on social media and texting. I only found this out by actually getting to know her.

That advice that you hear about “if she takes two hours to text you back, so you wait two hours or more to text her back” is bullshit. That’s stepping on your own dick stuff right there. “Leaving her on read” is another one.

I know this because initially I thought of doing all of these things with this woman. I could hear “alfa male 2.0” telling me what I should do. I decided to follow my own advice instead.

So when “Arielle” (that’s what I’m going to call her) took forever to text me back, I didn’t overanalyze it and think it to death. I just did my own thing, I didn’t obsess over it or worry about it. Which you shouldn’t be doing either, by the way. When “Arielle” texted about being a “strong and independent woman,” I didn’t worry about that either. I just smirked to myself and said to myself, “That’s cute.” And then I invited her to meet up.

I’m glad that she accepted, because the woman she portrayed in text was a lot different than the woman who showed up in front of me. “Arielle” on paper or pixels could be seen as a feminist wet dream. The reality is that she is very VERY submissive. All of that posturing went out the window when she and I locked eyes.

If I had followed the texting advice from guys online, I would have stepped on my own dick and ruined any chance of meeting this woman. And not just her, but many, many women before her. I’ve read a bunch of “guides” in the past and like I’ve said, most of it is garbage because it’s not context dependent. Every woman is going to be different and every situation is going to somewhat different.

So are there some “Hard and Fast Rules?”

The short answer is both a yes and a no.

In general, the only rule is that there are no rules. Text back quickly if the context warrants it. Use emoji’s if that’s your thing. I do. I use them all the time and to great effect. The 2/3rd’s Rule is about the only thing that I would say is to your benefit. Less is more. Also another thing that Roissy brought up that works here as well as in real life is “Unless you are fucking her, everything is amusing, interesting, or irrelevant.” Don’t read into her texts. Keep it entertaining for you and for her. Be smirking and laughing on the inside when you are dealing with her through texts. Enjoy your texts with her, play and banter with her. Flirt with her. Save the “heavy conversations” for after sex, and in real life.

And for God’s sake, take what guys who have “Texting Guides” say with a grain of salt.

“Look inside yourself.

How long have we on this earth, that we should deny ourselves what we most want and desire?

You know you want to be with me. You know that you cannot escape my Desire. I want you.”

I met up with a mutual acquaintance of mine, a younger man who worked for a competitor of the company that I worked for. He invited me to his apartment for a drink and then he and I and several of his friends were going to go to Area 51, a local “goth club.” It was the end of the month, and it was time for the monthly “Goth Ball.”

I showed up at his place dressed from head to toe, in all black. Black shirt, jeans, and black boots. I rang the doorbell and he answered with a shot glass in hand. The festivities had already started. He handed me a shot of something clear. Vodka. My favorite hard alcohol. I downed it and came inside.

There were several people already sitting around having a drink. A couple of guys, a couple of women, and Spyder.

All of these people were much younger than me, I was the “Old Man” going to the party. I was introduced briefly to all of them, including Spyder. That was the name that she chose to go by. Black and dark purple hair. A couple of tattoos peaking out from the shoulders of her black bodice dress. She definitely caught my eye.

I said hello to all of them, nodded at each of them, and then small talk ensued until it was time to go to Area 51.

The drive there was uneventful, and while we were waiting in line to get inside, I realized that I was the most underdressed one there. Most of the people were wearing leather, PVC, some type of lace, or stuff that was truly “gothic.” I was the “old man” in a black T-shirt and black jeans.

We got inside and began to mingle with the other club patrons. The music was loud, the bass line vibrating throughout my body. I could barely hear myself thinking.

I remember walking around, checking out the club, the people, the sights. There were people being flogged and whipped on crosses. People in cages, dancing. There was even people being suspended by chains through piercings in their bodies from the ceiling. It was wild.

I remember walking around, taking it all in, when I ran into her. Spyder.

She smiled briefly in recognition. Other than my nodding and saying hello to her back at the apartment, she and I had not spoken a word to each other.

The song that was playing ended, giving us a moments pause, enough time to say a few brief words.

“Pretty wild huh?”

“It’s alright, I guess.” She said noncommittally.

I could hear the next song starting up. “Want to dance?”

“Sure.”

And so the music kicked in, drowning out any chance for further conversation.

We started moving to the music, to the beat. I stepped towards her, to close the gap, to get closer. And Spyder moved backwards, keeping that gap between us. I stepped towards her again, trying to close that gap, and again, she retreated. This went on a couple more times until I stopped and just danced with her in my own space. I quit advancing.

She stayed in her own space, dancing, but not moving closer and not moving away. And that’s how that song ended. The next song started up and I danced in my own space for a moment and then I did something different. I stepped away from her. I moved back, opening up the gap. I wanted to see what she would do.

And she stepped towards me, into me. Closing that gap.

I stepped away from her again, opening the gap. And she stepped towards me. Closing it again.

I continued doing this dance, this stepping away and she stepping towards me, from the shadows and the more secluded area we had been in, leading her all the way to the main dance floor where everyone else, including my work/competitor acquaintance and all of his friends, were at.

We were now in the middle of the main dance floor, the music even louder than before if that was even possible. The temperature here was much warmer, hot. All the body heat from all of the dancers accumulating.

I step away from Spyder one final time and she again closed the gap.

And then…

I stepped towards her.

She didn’t move.

I stepped towards her again, closing the gap even more, and still she didn’t move.

On my final step towards her I felt her hip touch mine and simultaneously I put my arm around her waist and pulled her into me. And we danced. And I locked my eyes with hers. I swung her around, never taking my eyes from hers until she closed them. And then I breathed against her neck and I could feel her gasp and shudder against me.

She opened her eyes looked into mine and smiled and then I kissed her. Long, slow, passionate. We kissed….

At the end of the evening as we were all leaving the club, Spyder about 10 or 15 paces ahead of me, my acquaintance pulled me aside, astonished and flabbergasted.

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?” I smirked.

Apparently he had been watching my Dance with Spyder.

“You didn’t say anything to her! You just met her! How can you go from a hello to making out with her on the dance floor? How is that even possible?”

“Because that is normal in my world.”

Look inside yourself. How long have we on this earth that we should deny ourselves what we most want and desire? You know that you cannot escape my Desire.