I Am Afraid.

Something I’ve seen recently is guys talking about “getting your IG (Instagram) on point.” I want to address that for a moment and then get on to what is really going on underneath it.

Okay, so if I’m going to “maximize my prospects with the ladies,” I need to sign up for IG and “get it on point.” Because IG is the future and the way of meeting women and blah blah blah.

Right. So when I take on any endeavor, whether sex-related or otherwise, I look at the ROI (Return On Investment.) Basically, for the amount of time, money, energy, and effort, what can I reasonably expect in return? I’m all about investing as little as possible and getting as much from “it” (whatever it is) as possible.

So with IG, in order to compete with Chad and all of the other “World’s Most Interesting Men,” I need to get great photos of myself for starts. That means hiring a good photographer. I don’t know where you live, but where I live, a good photographer is going to run you $100 USD per hour minimum. That may or may not include post production editing of the photos that were taken. Also, a good photographer around here is booked out solid for at least three months, and yes, this is during the pandemic.

Then I have to either pay someone or scout out interesting locations to do the actual shoots. You can’t just have studio head shots. Anyone can do those. So I need to drive around and go to “exotic” locations. Which means I’m hiking around to find the perfect location to get the perfect shots to convey that I’m a man of interest and intrigue.

Then there’s the time of day to do the shoot. There’s really only two times of the day to do it for maximum results. That’s right at dawn and right at dusk. High noon shoots on a sunny day are horrible. You get weird shadows that are hard to remove in post production, you look old and washed out, and the photos look “flat.”

Did I tell you that I do photography? I do. All of my shots that brought out certain emotions and just “popped” were either done in a studio, or they were shot on location, either right at dawn, before the sun fully came up, or right at dusk, right as the sun was going down, but just before it disappeared from the horizon. That means you have about 20 minutes, tops, to get your shots. You better have already scouted out your location and you better pray that the weather is cooperating with you.

So now you’ve found your location, the weather gods are smiling on you, and you paid to have your photographer drag their gear up the mountain right? Oh that’s right, most photographers that are good are going to charge you “travel expenses” if you are shooting anywhere other than their studio. Now you have to be on top of the mountain, in the dark, because you’re shooting before dawn right? Or you get to hike down the mountain in the dark because you shot at dusk.

And you get to repeat this whole process over and over because you want to be seen as the man of adventure. Gotta have different locations to show the women right? Different times of day. Gotta drag your animal if you have one along too. Same with your bros because you want to be seen as a sociable guy right? Oh wait, you don’t have bros. Never mind that one.

So now I’ve spent a few hundred dollars on photos of me doing strange and interesting poses in exotic locations. I’ve had to scout out the locations or pay someone else to do that for me. I may or may not have to pay for post production on the photos, or I can always edit them myself, since I know how, but that also takes time. Also there’s gas for my bike or my car plus wear and tear on said vehicles. There’s also sitting around in traffic in order to get out of the city. Oh and if you’re into shooting photos in a nightclub or a bar? Good luck. Most of those places prohibit photography, especially if your dragging your photographer around. There’s also getting written permission from anyone that is in the shots if the establishment allows you to shoot photos. You don’t want to get sued because Chad was fucking some guys wife and you happened to get him and her in your shot while at the club. You know, privacy and whatnot.

If you’re not doing all of this, then you are probably half-assing it and you’re going to get half-assed results at best. Most likely what you will have is a mediocre IG account that gets swallowed up by all the other IG accounts that are already out there, plus the new ones that go live every day. Lots competition if you ask me.

All this expenditure of time, money, and energy with no guarantees that it’s going to get you laid.

Sounds like a poor ROI to me. All of this work and hustle when you could be out talking to women.


Lots of guys complicating their sex lives because of the one underlying thing that they don’t want to say and to admit to:

“I am afraid.”

It’s okay guys, I’ve been there too. Once upon a time, I was afraid of approaching women. Sometimes I still am. I was afraid of rejection because if one woman rejected me, then that must mean all women would reject me, and everybody was watching, and my bros would raise their eyebrows and say, “Dude…Really? That girl? Are you serious?” and there was a huge spotlight on me, and everybody would point and laugh at me and Chad would come along and just steal the girl away, anyways, so I might as well either give up because chasing skirt just isn’t worth it, or I need some schtick like IG so that I don’t have to approach women, but I’m hustling and I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile. I’m being busy for the sake of being busy instead of just admitting to myself:

“I am afraid.”

IG, dating apps, dating websites, match making services, and even texting to some degree are just crutches and buffers. They shield you from rejection. Being able to walk up to a woman and letting your intentions be known, and also being willing to be rejected is a tall order. It’s scary. I still get approach anxiety. I still hesitate and freeze up. I still blow it and get rejected. I get rejected way more than I succeed. I still keep going though.

Even when I didn’t know what “Game” was, the ‘Sphere didn’t even exist, and most information wasn’t easily available online, if at all, I still had to do it the hard way and walk up to a woman and talk to her. And I was afraid. I still succeeded though. Not as much as I would have liked, but more than I thought I would have.

You don’t “need” IG. None of the women I have dated, had relationships with, or had one night stands with had it or if they had it, they only used it for looking at inspirational quotes or plates and bowls of food. They spent more time on Facebook or Pinterest than they did on IG. Hell, most of them play games like Candy Crush instead of worrying about “likes” on social media.

I have not met one woman off of IG. Not one. I’ve met plenty from MySpace (back in the day) Facebook, various dating apps and sites, and of course, when I’m out and about doing stuff in real life. What’s the ROI? For me, I want to meet women with a minimum of ease, spend as little time and money as possible, and ideally I want them to come to me, show up at my house, fuck my brains out, and then leave. If we get along and the sex was really good, I’m always open for seconds, thirds, and so on. I don’t need IG for that. I just need a half decent photo of myself, if I’m going to do online dating, which means upper two-thirds of my body with my face fully visible, some corny intro line, and a little of my humor in the body of the profile. Or I just need to “sack up” and talk to her.

Humor is a strength of mine and it always has been, so that’s my “super power.” I’ve even told women that I’ll laugh them right out of their panties and right into my bedroom, and you know what? It worked.

Play to your strengths. Determine what is your best ROI. Maybe you live somewhere where IG is the new calling card. Fine, so be it. Maybe your looks are your strength, good deal. Maximize that then. I imagine though that if you are like most guys, you are average in looks. You are a “5” and you ain’t shit and that’s okay. Do you really want to spend a bunch of time and money spinning your wheels, pretending that you are doing the work, ultimately getting little to nothing in return?

Or do you want to be honest with yourself and admit:

“I am afraid.”

And then take a chance and risk rejection by talking to that woman that you see and find attractive?

When I look back at the absolute worst rejection I ever had, do you know what it was?

It was a woman looking me dead in the eye and saying, “Fuck off.”

That’s it.

I have never been slapped, punched, beat up, arrested, metoo’d, shot, stabbed, had a drink thrown in my face, or been thrown out of a bar for it. I’ve been thrown out of bars for other things that had nothing to do with talking to women, but that’s a story for another time. I’ve never been run out of town for being rejected, I’ve never had a mob chasing me with torches and pitchforks. I didn’t die when I got rejected.

Newsflash: You won’t die either.

Nobody pointed and laughed at me, nobody gave a shit. Life went on and believe it or not, that one rejection didn’t apply to other women, let alone all women. One woman turned down my offer, another one enthusiastically accepted my offer. Go figure.

I don’t think about my rejections because there are so many. I don’t dwell on them because at least I knew. I knew that nothing was going to happen with that one particular woman in front of me, so I could move on from it to the next woman. And that was the worst thing that could happen: Nothing happened.

The only thing I regret is the one’s that I didn’t talk to because:

“I was afraid.”

I don’t dwell on those regrets, but sometimes they pop up and once in a blue moon, they will wake me from a dead sleep. “What might have happened? What if I had approached her?” “What could have been?”

As Rollo said: “Rejection is better than regret.”

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Never Tell Me The Odds Part Two

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I love seeing things like this.

I went to a couple of bars with a friend of mine this last Saturday night. It was the first time that I have been to a bar since the pandemic. There were a few slight changes that I noticed from the pre-pandemic days. Masks were required for entry and for when you were wandering around, but while you were sitting at your own table with your group, you didn’t need to wear it. Which leads me to believe that the whole mask thing is nothing but a bunch of bullshit.

That’s not the point of this post.

My friend and I were talking more or less all night long about women. His goal from the time that I have known him is that he wants “younger, hotter, tighter.” Why wouldn’t he? What’s not to want? Problem with my friend is that he’s in his head too much.

He would say all sorts of things to me and I would respond over and over with, “Yeah, but did you approach?” Of course he didn’t. I got so frustrated a few times that I wanted to punch him.

I’ve learned that guys will talk themselves out of damn near anything and everything.

I finally got to a point where I told him, “Dude, if you see a girl you like, just say hi. That’s it. Don’t worry about what else to say, don’t worry about how you are going to come off. Just smile and say hi. Then walk away. Do you think you can do that?”

Everybody has to start somewhere and when I first started learning about my own approach and social anxiety, that’s where I started. I would just smile and say hi and then go on my way. When that got to be no big deal, I would then add things to it and before too long I was having conversations with complete strangers. Sometimes those conversations went somewhere, sometimes they didn’t.

Baby steps.

It was getting towards the end of the night and we were sitting there, getting ready to leave when this redhead early 20-something walks by and my friend says, “Hi!” to her as she and her friends are leaving. The girl stops, looks at him, her face lit up and she says “Hi!” back to him. He proceeds to say something along the lines of “How are you doing? What are you up to?” And the girl walks over to him/us. She starts talking and of course, her cockblocking fat friend shows up, grabs her by the arm and tells her, “C’mon we’re going.” And drags her off. Right on schedule.

Not two fucking minutes later though, the redhead came back.

“Let me give you my phone number.” My friend handed her his phone and she put her number in it and told him her name was Hailey and that she wanted to talk to him. She then proceeded to leave as the cockblocker was making her way back to her.

If my friend had told me this story, I wouldn’t have believed it. Except I was sitting there, heard it with my own two ears and saw it with my own two eyes. I’m not leaving any details out, this is literally what happened, it’s literally the whole conversation that happened between the two of them.

He said “Hi!” She said “Hi!” The cockblocker showed up and whisked PYT away and PYT came back and gave him her phone number without him asking for it. I’m not exaggerating.

Was my friend simply the right guy at the right place at the right time? Probably. It definitely wasn’t because he had tight game and gave her some killer routine or that he looked like Chad Thundercock because he doesn’t. It all started because he chose to nut up, stop being a pussy, and he said hi.

One thing I can fucking guarantee you though is this: If he hadn’t said “Hi” to her, nothing would have happened whatsoever.

I’m so happy he did something. I feel like a Dad watching his kid ride a bicycle without the training wheels for the first time. I’m so happy for him, it was almost like it was me who got the number.

I’m sure there are plenty of naysayers who will say some stupid fucking shit like, “She probably does that with all the guys she meets.” Or something like, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” You know what? Who cares? Sit back in the cheap seats and Monday night quarterback this all you want. At least my friend had the courage to actually try instead of just talking about it or bitching and moaning about “wahmen bad.”

 

“Don’t care, got laid.” – Rian Stone

 

Never tell me the odds that you can or can’t do something because you’ll be right. If you don’t think you can, you’re right. If you don’t think something is attainable, you’re right. Who am I to try and convince you one way or another about your point of view that you so desperately cling to?

I’m so proud of my friend for taking a chance and getting out of his comfort zone for just a moment. Will he and that girl end up going anywhere or doing anything? Who knows? That’s up to them. It could go in any direction. I’m just glad he took a chance, otherwise she would have been the girl that he talked about later that he wished he had said something to and didn’t.

Well done my Friend, well done.

Next time, after you say “Hi,” you can think of something else to say or you can’t just listen to her blather on, because they do. Don’t worry about fucking it up because you probably will, and that’s okay because nobody is watching and nobody gives a shit.

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