My former brand of condom made it very hard for me to ejaculate. I’d be pumping away for more than twenty minutes until she just got tired and then I would lay in bed with a heavy set of balls. Sometimes she’d finish me off with her mouth but sometimes not, and I remember times I had to go home and jerk off after having sex. It was humiliating.

Eventually I found out about thin condoms and blasting was no longer a problem, but I had to think of baseball or organic chemistry so I could at least hit the respectable 12 minute mark. I knew how to hold my orgasm by squeezing my pelvic muscles and would do that if I thought I didn’t go long enough, even though it would eventually result in a pitiful orgasm.

Gradually I just stopped caring, and soon everything I did in bed was for my pleasure only. The only reason I’d delay orgasm is to make mine better, and I pretended I don’t hear her the first time she told me to drill slower or not to go so deep. I did whatever I wanted because I came to value my orgasm as sacred, and her pleasure as second to mine.

Do you want to guess what happened?

Nothing. Nothing happened. Girls didn’t want to fuck me more, they didn’t want to fuck me less. Not caring about their sexual pleasure had no effect on repeat calls and repeat sex.

For guys all that matters is the end, but for girls it’s the process. As long as she gets into it and can say, “I’m getting fucked good and this feels great,” then you’ve done your job. Sure if you make her orgasm on demand you’ll definitely hear from her again, but it’s not necessary and just too complicated to worry about. Keep in mind some girls barely know how to make themselves orgasm!

Every now and then I get a feeling that I gave a girl an orgasm, but I can never be sure because I don’t ask.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

Bang is closing in on its 500th copy sold. It will probably happen sometime next month (it’s already been a year). I’ve been considering going the published route with this second book, but the process to get published seems so long, drawn-out, and discouraging. Literary agents and publishing houses take 2-6 months to get in touch with your query letter and after that it’s no shorter than a year by the time you see it on bookshelves. Plus most authors don’t earn anything beyond their advance, which I speculate is $5,000 - $15,000 for a never-published author.

My bet is I’ll stick with the indie route. It’s serving me well so far.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

The kids always take up the swim lane so I wait until the 15-minute rest period to get in the water. Today there were two women still hanging around in my lane, and since it was quiet I could hear them talking. They were speaking Portuguese, and most likely from Brazil.

I watched while I waited. One had to be in her 40’s, slowly wading through the lane getting just a bit of exercise, while the other, much younger, was still. She put her back against the concrete wall and placed her arms behind on the ledge, pushing her breasts out. I did want to see more, and I had the perfect excuse.

I moved slowly down the lane to where they were, slowly only because that’s how it is when you walk in water. Looking at both I said, “Mind if I share the lane so I can swim a couple laps?” There was silence. Maybe they don’t speak English, I thought, and I was ready to mime the act of swimming so they’d understand. But the older woman spoke. “Oh she doesn’t speak English. Sure go ahead.”

“Are you two from Brazil?”

“Yes we are.”

I told them I recognized the language, said a couple words that any gringo who has been to Brazil would know, smiled, and then went back to the other side of the pool to start my swim.

The concept is so logical but yet so foreign to me: meeting people in the neighborhood. That’s how most of the teenagers did it, anyway. I was always so focused on bars and clubs that god knows how many opportunities I missed right in front of my doorstep.

I did five brisk laps before I got tired and stopped at the other end of the pool, where the two Brazilians were already settled. I was right next to the older woman, and I don’t remember who started talking first, but it started. About her country, my country, marriage, life, food, girls, guys. Our observations about American culture were similar and not so positive, but we agreed that it’s easier to have a comfortable life here. You don’t need to be rich to have a car, apartment, a million channels and the like. We talked for one hour, the sun baking me much more than her light brown skin.

She told me so many funny stories that my cheeks became sore from laughing. One was about the younger girl wading nearby, the daughter of a close friend, who came to the U.S. only a couple months ago. Fresh off the boat, uncorrupted, and shy to speak the little English she knows. Her first day in this family pool she wore a thong bikini, got in the water, and was too embarrassed to come back out after catching everyone’s attention. “You know Brazilians, we don’t like clothes,” the woman said. Yes, I know.

The younger one had the Brazilian ass, of course—seemingly muscular, with a cute young face, long hair, and smooth olive skin. She’s from Florianopolis, if you happen to know the south of Brazil. I’d be surprised if she was over 22 or so, but I never asked. While I was talking to the older woman the girl got in my field of view. She pinched her nose and then leaned backwards into the water. She came back up and slowly wiped the water from her hair with her hands. The sun was shining so strong I could only see the outline of her face. But It was beautiful nonetheless. She was beautiful. I tried to pretend I wasn’t affected.

The older woman kept saying that I need to teach the girl English, and in exchange she will teach me Portuguese. I suggested that would be a fine idea, but was careful not to appear too eager. She could start teaching me numbers, I said, so I can understand when the clerk at the Brazilian store nearby tells me how much I owe. The woman even told me their address, telling me to stop by anytime.

If nothing comes of this it won’t be for lack of effort. I already know how I’m going to do it. I’m going to buy a two liter bottle of Guarana from the Brazilian store and take it to their place. They will invite me in, minutes will turn into hours, and if there is some attraction the rest will be inevitable. That’s how I imagine it anyway.

It seems cliche almost. Brazilian girls, sensual, sexual, open, different, warm. But my experiences do not lie. I know what is in store for me if I knock on that door. Some cultures build their women for men, and some do not.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

Ten people you’ll find at a bar, including “the sunglasses at night guy” and the guy who “got off work four hours ago, but is still in his suit and tie.”

Jack Goes Forth is becoming a very pleasurable read as he finds his voice.

Meet Wayne Gerdes, a “hypermiler” who can get over 100 mpg fuel efficiency in an unmodified hybrid. He turns off the car while on the road and drafts tractor trailers, among other techniques.

“We’ve been getting a free ride on the global gravy train. Other countries are starting to reclaim their resources and goods, so as Americans are priced out of various markets, the rest of the world is going to enjoy the consumption of goods Americans had previously purchased. This is a natural consequence of this phony economy.”

Blogger Jeff Simmeron started an internet war with a local coffee chain. If his name sounds familiar it’s because he came to a couple blogger happy hours that Kathryn hosted, where he would pass out business cards with his blog on it. I thought it was a neat idea, but others disagreed. How much I miss Kathryn’s events.

Chart of virginity rates among college students according to major. Mathematics and chemistry majors are the big losers. One word: Communications.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

Content on the blog is more mainstream / fun while the newsletter is just about pick up.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

Here’s how I do it…

1. Clubs are out. They’re just too pricey, even if you get in for free. With a basic vodka drink at $8 you’re looking at spending at least $40 just to get your ears blasted while repeating “What did you say?” all night long to chicks who wish they were Lindsey Lohan. It’s a stupid waste of money, especially if you’re game is talking instead of dancing. It’s important to be a competent dancer but if you are the old guy in the club your supreme dancing skills will be seen as weird and creepy instead of attractive.

2. Weekend game is out. I can’t deny that most girls I’ve laid are from ones I’ve met on the weekend, but is it because the girls who go out on the weekend are easier or because most of the nights I’ve gone out on happen to fall on the weekend? I’m not entirely sure, but let’s face it: weekends are amateur nights, for people who do nothing during the week except work and watch TV. By Friday they are way too excited to go all-out and get sloshed with a group of friends to half-ass the mating dance. When midnight strikes all the girls will be less receptive they should be (based on their quality) because they have been hit on by too many guys in a short period of time.

At the end of a weekend night 98% of all participants fail in their goal to get laid or pair bond. The puffed up jockeying of the guys and the wannabe celebrity attitudes of the girls are replaced with the fascinating late-night feeding behavior, a relatively new phenomenon not seen in our parents time. The herd begins to eat pizza, cheeseburger, gyros, and sometimes falafel, to fill their empty tummies of loneliness and failure. Many will walk out of these eating establishment with grease running halfway down their face.

Weekdays have a more laid back crowd making it easier to meet someone, with fewer guys humping a girl’s leg because of liquid courage and less girls who think they have more options than the zero options they actually have. I met a girl during the weekday at a bar and even though she was a regular she told me I was the first guy who ever approached her there. Maybe she was lying, maybe not, but my point remains.

A downside of weekday bar game is that there are fewer girls, but this is quickly compensated by approaches that are far more likely to result in a loooong conversation. You’ll have to approach two girls to get something instead of five or more on a weekend. I found a Tuesday bar that has given me bountiful fruit from just a couple visits.

Also weekdays are cheaper if you take advantage of a happy hour’s tail end. My average cost for a weeknight is $20, while for a weekend it’s $40. All else being equal do the weekends produce double the results or fun? No, they don’t. If you can find a nice bar on Monday through Wednesday then you are set, but take care on Thursday nights because those tend to be stupid college girl night.

3. Public or bicycle transportation. Cars are ridiculously expensive. You have the car payment, insurance, maintenance, upkeep (tires, battery, windshield wipers), car washes, parking tickets, DUI arrests, and gas. Even if I take taxis everywhere it’s still cheaper than owning a car. But there are two problems with public transportation:

- During the weekday the subway stops early at midnight, so I’m stuck with a hefty cab ride if I decide to ride out the night until 2am closing. This means I have to start very bright and early at 8pm, a time when things are barely getting started. (Solution: Feel out the vibe when the clock hits 11:30am, when you should know if sweet fruit will be obtained or not. Always stay flexible, like a ballet dancer.)

- Pre-drinking is a no go. If the bus ride takes an hour, drinking at home and just sitting on the bus for an hour will destroy your buzz. It will not be as good when you eventually start drinking again at the bar. (Solution: Don’t use alcohol as a crutch to talk to girls. This is something you should be working on long term.)

4. Start your dates at events, not bars. This happened by accident. In my quest to be a cultured man of the world I looked for events like the Greek Festival or European Embassy Open House. There is a lot of substance for fun conversation and you can cap it off with a couple drinks at a cheap neighborhood bar. She won’t care you took her to a dump because you were so original with your date idea. Here you are looking at a $20 date instead of the automatic $60-80 date if you take her to nice lounges like Topaz or Chi-Cha Lounge. By the way, did you know there are still guys taking girls out to dinners? Haha morons.

A good place to find events is the Events tab on Yelp which spoon feed you a wide variety of things to do. In effect you are outsourcing your date ideas, but the girl has no idea and your creativity score will shoot through the fucking roof.

The end result is I spend a third of what I used to spend but I go out less and get laid much more. The get laid more is due to factors besides the scope of this post (continually improving game, for example), so it’s possible your mileage from only going out one weekday a week will hurt your results unless you’re already at a certain level. Another downside is that it will take quite a bit of time investment to find a good weekday spot. You’ll have to experiment.

Every time a buddy calls me on Saturday night to see if I’m staying in to write and drink beer alone there is that moment when I almost say yes, but then I remember the amateurs and ugly white girls who spend so much time to look good only to wear cheap flip flops. How about Tuesday night?

If you liked this post then I think you will like my Roosh's Game Tips Email Newsletter. It's completely free and your first newsletter will be about how to meet girls in coffee shops. Following that will be newsletters on getting phone numbers, dealing with flakes, teasing girls the right way, handling cockblockers, meeting girls in foreign countries, and a whole lot more. Your email address will always remain private and you can unsubscribe at any time. Put your first name and email address below and click the button.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

MONDAY MORNING CUBICLE CHALLENGE: Watch the entire video without laughing or smiling or giggling…

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

I’m pro-women’s magazines because it makes girls so insecure and wrapped up in their own world of perceived flaws and lacks that they never notice my flowing ear hair, which I let shed naturally.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

Any “people person” would start getting very uncomfortable if the guy on the bus next to you starts hacking away his flem or reeking of body odor or having a loud, profanity-laden fight on the phone. Riding the subway with a rude group of kids causing a ruckus is an event that educated people must tell anyone that will listen.

The email:

I’m just getting settled in. Oh my god it was the ride from hell. First off, getting stopped by cops, put us off by a good 15 minutes. Then, I have a metal chunk of crap where my feet are to sit, and a morbidly obese man squirming not to touch me next to me. This means I get half my seat. He is generating a lot of body heat.

Stopover. Smelly looking tree planters exchange notes on their equipment, some guy tries and fails to pick the hippie girls up. Everyone’s standing outside to get the best seat, mosquitoes are going crazy, it’s raining. There are tons of fat people wandering in from *****, mullets and bleached blond hair. I contemplate asking one of the skinny tree hugger girls to sit next to me.

I chuck someone’s water bottle down the aisle under the chairs, and take a window seat, only to discover two large native men peering at me. I’ve taken their seats, and chucked their water bottle. A skinny man that looks like a gold digger from the Klondike demands to know if I was on before, and how it is I forgot my seat. I take a new seat, slink down, and stare intently at my ticket.

A girl sits beside me. Next to her, four African men reeking of cologne. They talk for the next 10 hours straight in a language that sounds like a swamp bubbling. Behind me, two native men reeking of booze and cigarettes. “With my luck, we’ll hit a tanker truck.” “With mine, we won’t.” Something starts banging under my chair, loud, at random. Then my seat starts to wobble. The natives suspect the wheel axis is coming off, and that the wheel is going to fly off the bus. They then FALL ASLEEP. I pop two codeines and eventually have to tell the driver something funny is going on. We stop in parry sound for tim’s and he looks at it, for a second. I figure I’ve done all I can to prevent my death here.

The african men get off at ******. Their luggage is not on the bus. They start bellowing and lunging at the driver, who yells back. Everyone is looking out the window, and it looks like we might have a fight on our hands after 10 hours in the bus. Driver gets on and closes the door.

A man in the back coughs a deep cough from his lungs, then swallows his snot. Someone tells him to cover his mouth when he does that. TB TB TB. I run to the front of the bus near *******, open my own coach luggage door and grab my luggage. I hurl myself into a cab before those slugs have even stirred from their slumber.

The email had complaints about body odor, flem, and fighting, among others. Eerie coincidence or validation that what I speak of is real absolute truth?

I’m positive the email came from a woman who is pro-environment, anti-war, hyper educated, a voracious reader, has donated to the Sally Struthers aid program, owns or considers owning a hybrid, and who considers herself a lover of people. Yet if a plumber in her home or a polite bus driver engaged her in conversation she wouldn’t know what to say, and that’s the issue with educated First World inhabitants who wrap themselves up in the cocoon and have no knowledge or experience of people not like them.

Next month… You’re Not As Open Minded As You Think.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

Here’s the thing about your life right now. You get up in the morning, go in your car cocoon shell (or ride the subway with people like you who have jobs that took an interview longer than ten minutes to get), go to work with other smart people, go to the gym with health conscious people, shop at Trade Joes or Whole Foods where everyone knows what a trans fat is, and then go to the bar or club with more educated or smart people (though rarely beautiful since this is Washington DC we’re talking about). Well that’s not reality.

The humans you are interacting with on a daily basic or a tiny subset of the range of humans that exist. The majority of humans alive today are stupid, dirty, poor, or batshit insane. The only time you catch a glimpse of this is when a homeless person asks you for spare change but living in a wealthy city makes these encounters the anomaly instead of the rule. The human existence is miserable, desolate, brutish, and until recently, short. Remember: the United States is a rich country and most countries of the world are not rich, especially ones that are heavily populated. And let’s be honest, 99.9% of you have never been out of North America besides some Caribbean beach resort for Spring Break.

The point is that you like people less than you think you do, especially if you claim to be a “people person,” something I hear occasionally, usually from a woman who works in PR or human resources. Any “people person” would start getting very uncomfortable if the guy on the bus next to you starts hacking away his flem or reeking of body odor or having a loud, profanity-laden fight on the phone. Riding the subway with a rude group of kids causing a ruckus is an event that educated people must tell anyone that will listen.

You’re only similar to the 0.000001% of the human population that is clean and educated like you and who has the embarrassment filter that prevents any acting up in public or doing anything someone educated would deem weird or strange. Accept that you hate people and if a monster tsunami wiped out another 200,000 people in Southeast Asia you’d be annoyed that news coverage preempted your favorite television show, The Bachelor.

You disgust me.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

At the next stop two guys and two girls came onto the train. They paired off as they sat and all seemed like just friends. I’m not an expert on body language but at 29 I think I know if two people are fucking or not. They held my attention, partly because I was done looking at my fingernails but also because of their exceptionally clear Spanish. Their minimal use of slang and clear enunciation told me they definitely were not from dirty Mexico or Central America. Maybe they were from Colombia, I thought.

This was the last midnight train, and they were tired. Judging by their backpacks it looked like they studied at some library followed with a trip to some Washington DC forest to blaze. The girls rested their heads on their respective guy. The first guy put his arm around his girl and just let it hang there. They both closed their eyes. Go to sleep.

The second girl had her eyes closed on the second guy’s chest as well, but his eyes were opened. He was looking at the top of her head and stroking her hair, slowly and deliberately like she was a gentle flower with fine petals that easily come off. He would not take his eyes off her head. Just staring at her black hair covered skull. He did this for the next twenty minutes, stroking and touching and looking while she did not respond in any way. If I had to take a guess as to what he was thinking, it would be “If she ever leaves me I’m going to kill her and her family.” It was one of the creepiest things I’ve ever seen in my life, second only to an internet video I was tricked into watching of a grown man having sex with a horse. Actually I wasn’t tricked, I was curious, like any normal, well-balanced human being would be when presented with the opportunity to watch such an intriguing perversion of nature.

Physical affection is important in a healthy relationship, but it’s not natural to pet an unconscious girl who isn’t aware of your petting. The only exception is if the girl is in a coma and you are trying to bring her back to life. Creepy guys tend to be beta males, living absurd fantasies in their head because they can’t do it in real life until one day it comes out in a subway car and is noticed by an astute observer taking mental notes because he refuses to buy an iPod. It just didn’t add up to me that this beta male was in the position to stroke the head of a beautiful girl that I would personally get with in a heartbeat. It went against everything I have learned and experienced in the past seven years. I’ll get over it, I thought—this is just the exception and I shouldn’t change my world view just for this haunting display of affection.

Turns out that that won’t even be necessary.

When they all got up at their stop a surprise switch occurred. The girls held hands of the opposite guy as they walked off the train. Are they all just fuck buddies who swap partners like in an obese swingers farm or are they all just childhood friends? I don’t have to change shit. They’re just friends.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

With a petite girl I like how her small size makes me look big and how she is easier to maneuver, but small girls mean small vaginas so I usually have to take it easy. I can’t just pound away with impunity and many times I will get comments about going too deep or too fast. I dislike it when my stroke is disturbed but I understand it has to feel good for the girls too.

With a bigger girl, and I mean a more curvy and full figured woman and not BBW, man I can pound away and she’ll still want it harder than I can provide. There is nothing more humbling than when a girl says “Fuck me harder” and I am fucking her as hard as I possibly can. Full figured women are also less inhibited than fragile petite girls (for reason I don’t understand), so things do get nice and sloppy even if moving her around takes more verbal commanding. After sex with a petite girl the room smells like the candle she is burning. After sex with a bigger girl the room smells like her vaginal juices which got all over both of our bodies.

Another advantage of the bigger girl is their vaginas are looser. Having sex with a tighter than a vice Asian girl and my resulting three minute orgasm time has led me to believe that guys who want tight vaginas has not had unprotected sex before. Of course I don’t want to be swimming in there but the longer it takes me to reach orgasm the better than orgasm is. Plus I’ll be be perceived as a champion in the bedroom. If you gave me a choice between a tight vagina and a loose vagina, I’d pick the loose vagina every time.

Petite girls are like flowers and for girlfriend lovemaking this would be a sound choice, but there is nothing like the possibility of banging a girl with a gigantic meaty ass to get me excited about going out on a date. When I’m especially horny and masturbation is not working only this type of body type can satisfy my craving. Even fat girls I don’t mind pleasuring once a year as long as she has a cute face. I mean I didn’t spend all that time mastering my game just to have sex with one very specific type of girl. If you like sex, you like sex.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

• How To Be A Master Blogger Like Me
• The Big Leagues
• Bike Ride Home
• Ecuador Death Road & We’re Pretty Much Homeless

I put together my favorite photos from the trip, picked some mood music, and turned it into a video. Some photos you’ve seen, some you haven’t. It’s separated into three parts, mostly in chronological order.

I: Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Chile
II: Argentina (mostly Cordoba)
III: Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay (dead bat), Brazil (mostly Rio)

6 Months In South America In 5 Minutes from Roosh V on Vimeo.

I think it captured the true essence of the trip.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

The Mylo is an “internet communication device,” which means it’s a tiny laptop. The prime feature is you can use it like a phone with Skype because it has built-in wireless internet (there is a microphone and ear speaker). Mostly you’ll be using it to surf the internet but add a Sony memory stick (no SD cards unfortunately) and you can use it to open files and listen to MP3’s.

I’m going to rate it on two dimensions: looks and personality.

It gets a 7 out of 10 on looks. It’s lightweight and pleasing on the eye and has neon-looking lights at the ends. You won’t be embarrassed with it in your hand. The screen is bright and clear and the keyword is easy to use. The stylus at the end of the wrist strap is discreet. But it’s not hot enough that you make someone else feel insecure about their electronic device. iPhone people will look at it and act all smug-like, going off about the superiority of their phone in a passive aggressive mumble.

The personality could use an upgrade. When it’s dark you can’t see the navigation buttons and sometimes the unit doesn’t designed. For example, the zoom button on the browser doesn’t always work and it gets schizophrenic with the wireless network. But when you’re connected you can run AIM, YM, and Google Talk in addition to Skype, and also subscribe to RSS feeds. It takes pictures with the 1.3 megapixel camera, you can install flash games, and for offline use there is a text editor to take notes.

Since the Mylo will not replace your phone, the best use I can think of it is for travel if you don’t own a laptop. Many hostels offer wireless internet now and you can log on to check your email and then make phone calls back home. But you’ll have to pay for this privilege: Amazon is selling a new Mylo for $285. It’s too expensive for a budget traveler.

I think it’s a nice gadget, but with a cell phone and laptop I haven’t found a regular use for it. I’m re-gifting it to my 12-year-old brother.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

Here’s two other very short videos you may have not seen. The first is called Ecuador Death Road. Captions throughout help guide you through the complex narrative.

Ecuador Death Road from Roosh V on Vimeo.

The second video is called We’re Pretty Much Homeless. Here’s the summary:

Went out to MDM nightclub in Rosario, Argentina. We stayed until early morning and was ready to go back to the hostel but it was impossible to find a free cab. Many kilometers from the hostel, one Australian member of the party had a nervous breakdown which I was able to capture on film. Thirty minutes into our walk, a free cab was finally found.

Another Australian who stayed at the club a bit longer ended up jogging back to the hostel, asking directions in poor Spanish along the way.

My Australian friend is very good looking.

We’re Pretty Much Homeless from Roosh V on Vimeo.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

The first one linked to my player quiz. The word romeo is in quotes, his quiz results state he is a beta male, and he highlights the correct answer to the first question (girls should be viewed as dumb cheap hookers). Most likely to point out how awful the quiz is. A hater.

The second one linked to Chaco’s old skinny girl post. There’s a nice photo of Scarlet Johansen. A fan.

The third one linked to my ejaculation post and got more comments than my original post. Obviously a girl, obviously a fan. I haven’t had sex with a girl from Finland but I would.

By the way if you haven’t heard of the incredible story of how hopelessly outnumbered Finland fought off the Russians in 1939 then take time to read about the Winter War. More here, with videos.

To slow down the 163rd in the north, Finnish ski troops made wide circling flanking movements of 20 to 30 miles under cover of the long night and caught the rear and middle parts of the column by surprise. They found Soviet soldiers huddled around fires in -40° weather easy prey to sub-machine gun fire and grenades. Almost any wound was fatal. As the 44th approached Suomussalmi down the Raate Road, they had to pass between Kuomasjärvi and Kuivasjärvi on a narrow isthmus. 350 Finns in hand-to-hand combat closed the isthmus. Trees were now felled across the road in front and behind with the 44th Division strung out along the road. The 163rd only six miles north engaged in desperate struggles to push the Finns west, but were stopped. Much of this fighting was hand to hand

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

For the first couple months I was hesitant to reveal my unemployment and basement dwelling status, but then I received encouragement from a player friend who had a home stint of his own and told me it doesn’t make a difference. Turns out he was right.

If the main way you get laid is through status or money, then living at home will shut off your poon supply, but if you get laid through game then you actually get more sex because you have more free time to hit on girls. It’s that simple.

And it gets even more interesting. I’d have these moments of self-doubt where I’d think, “Besides being this amazing man, I have nothing to offer girls. I can’t take them on vacations or nice dates. I won’t be able to get a quality girl like I would if I was more established.” But In the past year I’ve dated more amazing, intelligent, funny, passionate, and successful girls than I have in my entire life. I’ve dated girls who invested significantly more money into me than I have into them. I’ve dated girls who give me rides home because they don’t want me to take the bus. It’s not completely logical, but if you’re a guy you already know how flawed using logic is when it comes to women.

Bottom line: you will never miss out on notches by lacking a commodity like clothes, money, or auto that comes with very basic labor. As long as you offer something hard to gain and scarce (true game), then you will always be in demand, and don’t let the bonehead mass audience cause you to believe otherwise. For a short second even I believed it.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.

…make sure you never ejaculate inside her, even if she is on the pill. Not only is the pill not 100% effective, no girl is perfect with taking it every day. Because you don’t want your player career to end prematurely with a newborn, don’t ejaculate inside a girl unless you accept the chance of having a baby with her.

I wrote that when I had a good job and a girl wouldn’t mind having my baby since I had the means to support it, but boy have times have changed. There is a new exception to my previous ejaculation rule…

The poorer you are compared to her, the safer it is to ejaculate inside her.

The reason is obvious: she does not want to have the baby from some deadbeat who can’t even buy diapers. While I don’t remember the last time I ejaculated inside a girl, if I got into a relationship with a lawyer you better believe that I’m busting inside her every night. “Cool keep the baby if you want. Hey can I borrow two bucks to take the bus back to my Dad’s basement?”

But let’s say she’s a Polish au pair in America for a short amount of time. Absolutely no creampies for her even if her tubes are tied. While I’m poor by most standards, to a Polish au pair I’m middle class and having my baby would mean a potential green card if I marry her. The incentives for her are just too great to keep the baby and the last thing in life I need right now is a little Rooshy running around.

Ejaculation safe professions: Lawyer, engineer, publicist, human resources manager, government worker above GS-10, model/actress, doctor, urban planner

Ejaculation unsafe professions: Teacher, retail clerk, artist, writer, barista, bus driver, storekeeper, librarian, secretary, social worker

Sometimes you can tell just by looking at the girl…

Safe:

Unsafe:

It’s ironic that the more likely a woman can support a baby on her own the safer it is to spread your potent seed inside her. I think we can blame thank feminism for that.

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P.S. My book Bang is now available on Amazon.com and qualified for Super Saver shipping.