I love this website. I love posting on it and I love talking about pick-up artist / seduction / dating advice for men stuff.

I wish I had more time to post.  If I quit my 9-5, I would post daily and probably start up some sort of weekly podcast.  And I’m grateful to say, that day might not be far off…

This past month, I have been working coaching guys constantly.

To give you a snapshot of my week:  First, I work my 9-5 job (40 hours a week).  Then, I work out 5 days a week, so between the meal prep, gym time and commute to-and-from the gym (10 hours a week).  Sleep for an average of 7 hours a night comes out to about 50 hours a week.

So we’re at 100 hours out of 168.  3 days of the week I am spending doing in-field night-game coaching, which comes out to roughly 15 hours.  Then another 20 hours goes into phone coaching.  Plus typically I book one speaking event per week which is (in total) a 4-5 hour engagement.

The rest of the time gets used up on things like gassing up my car, laundry, paying bills, cleaning, etc.  And having a girl over to spend some quality time with.

When you tally it all up, my days are so packed that unfortunately I’ve had to let posting slip.  It’s a shame because I have had tons of in-field discoveries and secrets that I’ve wanted to share with you all, but it’s just a matter of borrowing the time.

So I’m checking in to let you all know that not only are we still here, we’re rocking out in a big way and I expect amazing things to start going up in the near future.

Peace.

No related posts.

So over this past week, you guys have been reading about my job struggles.

When I write on this blog, my primary focus is to journal where I am actually at in my life.  Even if it’s negative or less than perfect.

But do I like sharing that stuff?  Not at all…  It’s uncomfortable to me on a few levels:

First, I’m embarrassed that I personally have struggled with that particular thing, whatever it is.  Which is ridiculous because if anyone else said what I was saying, there would be no reason for them to be embarrassed.  I would have nothing but empathy for them.  Not pity, but empathy.

Second, I’m the type of person that hates to show weakness.  I would love for this blog to be reams of lay reports and me talking about how awesome life is as I cast out pearls of wisdom.  Truth is, sometimes I struggle hard with life in general.

Regardless of my struggles, I NEVER let them defeat me.  Never.

Even in the deepest pit of my periods of depression, there was always some part of me that knew I would take it all back and break through.

And that’s what I’m going to do where I am now.  I am going to find the source of my power and dissolve everything that is standing in the way of me being at my best.  Or more specifically, feeling my best so that I can be my best.

I had a breakthrough in the middle of this week and although I’m not skipping on clouds yet, I feel like things are headed in the right direction and soon I will be on top of my game again.

I really want to write about it here, but I’m going to save it for a seperate post that will go up soon.

No related posts.

I was at my shitty job today, eating a sub from Quiznos.

As I was sitting there, spacing out and trying to forget that I was sitting in a cubicle, I started looking at the paper wrapper for the sandwich.

I didn’t look at what was written there, but I had the cognition that somebody chose those words and graphics.  Somebody chose that layout.

But the fact of the matter is, it probably wasn’t chosen by a marketing genius.  In fact, it probably wasn’t even chosen by someone who likes their job.

Somewhere else, maybe in some distant city, there is probably a man or woman sitting in a cubicle designing text to go on the wrappers for Quizno’s subs.  He probably thinks his job is meaningless and stupid.  He probably thinks his life is mediocre.

He almost certainly has hopes and dreams.  He almost certainly has potential that he knows is in him, but isn’t being taking advantage of.

But there he is, sitting in a shitty cubicle, putting together stuff that nobody cares about and will have no impact on the world.  There he is doing work that matters to no one and will be forgotten if it was ever really noticed at all.

This was a thought I had.  But it’s not meant to be a downer.  It really isn’t.

The point of me having this thought is that probably 80% of what is around you is being carried out by people who are living half a life and throwing the rest away.  80% of what you see is half-hearted crap that someone, somewhere just wanted to get off their desk.

The rude convenience store clerk.  The asshole bus driver.  The snippy customer service representative.

These are the uninspired actors of the world who know they are unnoticed and forgotten.

We live these kinds of lives because we approach life with half of our power.

As men, what is our power?

Our power is our ability to use our balls and our strategy.  I’ve met tons of men who are either all balls or all strategy.  But there are very few men who are both.

Being balls AND strategy as a lifestyle is a rare animal indeed.  It’s rare because people kid themselves into thinking they can use their balls to avoid needing to use strategy, or strategy to avoid using their balls.

The people who get to CHOOSE what they want and get to COMMAND what they want from life are the ones that bring their balls AND strategy to the table together, all the time.

I have this in pick-up and I am working on having this at work.

Come to think of it, at work I had both a shitty strategy and no balls.  I’ve made the choice to change this now though.

No related posts.

So I’ve been bitching about my job and how much I hate it for the past couple of posts.

And the fact is, I put it out there because that’s where I was at when I wrote it.  But there’s a few things to understand.

First, I am not here to put up a false front of who I am in the world.  Yes, I learned to be successful with women and have had lots of success in that area of my life.  But to project the idea that I’m happy all the time or that I love every moment of my life would be a total lie.  For this to be a journal, it needs to be raw and honest, not manicured and self-aggrandizing.

Second, I think it’s OK to vent, but I have always believed that no complaint should be made without a course of action.  If it’s annoying enough to complain about, it’s annoying enough to handle… NOW.

So this past week I called on the friends that I’m closest to with the hopes that somebody would impart some wisdom or inspiration on me and it would help me get myself out of this spot.

Some of my friends were really supportive, told me they hated seeing me so down.  Some had some recommendations: get back into meditation (I should), read Eckhart Tolle’s Power of Now (which I have started reading), stop being so hard on myself (they’re right).

On Wednesday, my buddy said to come out and meet him.  He explained that he meets weekly with a group of guys that get together and get whatever they need off their chest so that they’re solid and don’t burden other areas of their life with their shit.

“So what, like a support group for men,” I asked.  “Not exactly, more ballsy than that,” he responded in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Now this is a guy that I trust a lot so I told him I would join him.

We met at a house that one of the men was renovating.  About 8 of us guys were sitting around in this living room of half-finished floors and structures.

Scenes from the beginning of Fight Club started flashing through my head…  I was just waiting to have my head pressed against Bob’s “bitch tits”.

Some of the struggles that these men were talking about made me step back and say, “Fuck, I have nothing to complain about…”  These guys were saying what they had to deal with and some of it was pretty tough.

It reminded me how shitty society can be on guys.

Men are misunderstood by today’s society.  Masculinity in many ways is viewed with suspicion and so often society wants to shame men for being so offensively masculine.  For desiring what we desire, for not caring about the things that we’re “supposed” to care about, for not being a safe, civilized creature at every moment.

Maybe some of you are getting where I’m coming from, maybe some of you are not.

When it came time for me to say where I was at, I told them I was tired of talking about how angry I am and how much I hated my job.  I just wanted to stop feeling this way and get my power back.

They asked me if I feel a rage inside me that I’m afraid to show because I’m afraid it would scare people or be damaging in some way.  I said yes… which is why I probably work so hard to keep myself in check.  I’m afraid that if I ever let myself go I’d explode into a very destructive rage.

They said they wanted me to get the rage out.  They explained that when they’re in that spot, we as men need to get the rage out in a physical, visceral way.  We are not women who can softly sob their problems away – men need something with a little more kick.

Skeptically, I listened and was reluctant to believe whatever they were going to present to me would help, but I was game to try anything.  Frankly, when you felt as bad as I was you’re willing to go out on a limb.

They asked if I was ready to get my anger out.  I said I would give it a shot.

The guys faced me and packed into a tight huddle.  The guy facilitating this little operation said, “OK, here’s the deal.  I want you to look inside yourself and get in touch with the source of your anger.  Feel it.  Recognize it.  Do you have it?”

“Yes,” I said with that familiar rage growing inside me.

“Good.  Now I want you to push against us as hard as you can.  Keep your hands down by your sides, use your shoulders.  Keep in touch with that rage and scream from that place deep inside you.  Get it out, hold back nothing.”

So on one level I’m thinking, “Are you fucking serious?”  But on another I’m thinking, “OK motherfucker, you want to see rage?”

And in a flash I was screaming with such reckless abandon and rage and pushing with such force that I think these guys were worried they had made a very big mistake.

I thought about all the effort I pour into my job that goes unappreciated.
I thought about all the things I’ve done masterfully, only to have my bitch boss pick out something she felt wasn’t perfect and talk down to me like everything I do is shit.
I thought about how my “team” of co-workers connives and tries to undermine me.
I thought about how I get no support from the people who my job requires me to get support from.
I thought about how I’ve wasted so much time at a job that’s beneath me.
I thought about how I’m misunderstood, dismissed and slandered by people who I am forced to deal with.

And I went on and on… screaming and pushing like a lunatic.

I didn’t care though.  I mean, when you’re so bitter and depressed that you wish for death just so that you can be relieved of all the pain you feel, looking like a lunatic really doesn’t make a difference.

When I finally stopped, I was standing there trying to catch my breath.

“Look at the smile on this guy’s face,” one guy said.  “Jeez, he looks five years younger,” another guy said.

I didn’t realize I was even smiling.  But I felt in that moment like an enormous weight was lifted.  I felt free again in that moment.

We talked for a little while afterward.  One of the guys had said that I need to get in touch with my context for how I’m living my life.  “Holding a good context during the good times and the bad times is what gives a man his strength and his balls to rise above.”

So I’m starting down the path of taking back my power.  I have felt better these last few days and I’m making moves to improve my situation…

Now, since this is primarily a site about being successful with picking up women, I should mention that even at my absolute lowest point emotionally, I’ve still been extremely successful at picking up women.  I have some cool stories to share and I’ll write them up soon, I just felt like writing about this stuff more than about getting laid a bunch.

P.S.  If you’re not on the newsletter, you’re missing half the good stuff that goes on here…  get on there and get all of our free in-field audio, free teleconference recordings and other cool stuff.

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I guess one of the high points of being practiced in the area of picking up and dating women is that I can still be successful even when I feel like utter shit.

Half the time, I have to fight to not hate my life these days.  My hatred for my job and my overall feeling of frustration with day-to-day life is poisoning my ability to be happy.  I just walk around with a scowl on my face, spitting venom about everyone and everything in front of me.

Except when it comes to pick-up.  When I’m in the bar I am able to stay suave and transmute my self-loathing into charm.  It takes finesse but I think I’ve mastered it.

I’ll be on a date commenting about this and that and the girl will laugh and touch me and say, “You’re so funny.”  No, I’m not – I’m being serious, you just think I’m joking.

Thing is, when I’m in situations where I just want to be a blunt asshole I have a fear about hurting people so I chronically sugar-coat what I’m saying or turn it on myself.  I’m practiced enough for it to come across as charming, but the reality underneath everything is that I’m full of hate about a lot of stuff.

It’s draining to hate things.  Hate and frustration suck up all of my energy and at the end of the day all I want to do is zone out or sleep.  I have no strength or inspiration to make things better anymore.

It’s great that I can pick-up women and date successfully, but it certainly doesn’t solve the overall issue of happiness.

I pass through every day imprisoned by my own emotions and feel powerless to step up in the face of them.

But I get laid and have more women than I have time for, so that’s good… right?

Not really…  I mean, first there’s logistics.  Then there’s time investment.  Then there’s the fact that I can’t act like a total angry, self-loathing mess when I’m around the chick… so in a lot of ways seeing a chick can feel like a chore.

Then again, it’s really my mood that’s coloring everything black.  Maybe girls like the subtle simmering, brooding anger they sense in me…  I’ve had girls throwing sex at me these past couple of weeks.  I’ve had girls opening me and giving me IOIs even though my state has been shit.

Even with all the bitching… I definitely did have a whole bunch of sex last week.  I mean… what am I going to do?  Not have sex when it’s being thrown at me?  Come on.

Normally I would be amused by it all but I just don’t care – I just want relief from all this daunting anger and depression.  In the end, it’s my responsibility and I have no choice but to keep on keeping on.

Related posts:

1. Why I Hate a “Pick-up Artist”

Lately I feel as though my life resembles the beginning of Fight Club.

I don’t just hate my job.  I loathe my job.  I detest my job.

I work a 9 to 5 for a company nobody has ever heard of, doing work that nobody notices for a product that nobody cares about.

I started my job with the thought that I would just be there for a little while.  This was going to be my job to hold me over until I found a better one.  I mean, I have a degree from a good university, I have a strong skill set in high demand areas and I even enjoy doing the work in those areas.

But here I am, sitting in an office for 40 hours a week doing something that is basically glorified customer service to assist some of the dumbest people on earth.

Let me tell you something about customer service…  Customer service representatives hate their jobs and when you are an asshole to them, they hate you.  In fact, when a customer gives me shit, there is nothing I would like more than to hear the sound of screeching brakes, a horrified scream and then dead silence over the phone.

On the other hand, when you appreciate a customer service representative, they’ll bend over backwards to show you the most consideration and accommodation their job will allow.

That’s because appreciation, acknowledgment and understanding are rare in the day-to-day life of the customer service representative.  I know it is for me.

My general day looks like this:  I drag myself out of bed, despising the fact that I have to go to my job.  One scene later, I’m sitting at my desk with a defeated look on my face, fighting the urge to strangle my cubicle-mate that speaks into his phone just-a-little-too-loud all the time.

The phone rings and some nameless faceless person is bitching about something that isn’t my fault.  I soothe them through corporate euphemisms and platitudes and, with any luck, they shut up and disappear.  Sooner or later, I’ll receive an e-mail or personal greeting from one of my bosses to tell me that something has gone wrong and they would like to blame me for it.

When I came into this job, I was brimming with confidence.  I would interact with my co-workers with total self-assurance and even a hint of enjoyment.  Work used to be fun, or at worst, decent.  Then management changed and a raging bitch took over as my boss.

That was two years ago.  Over that time, she’s chiseled my confidence down to the status of a whipped dog.  I hate sounding like such a victim.  I hate even writing this.

But I’m at the point where I want nothing more than to never work here again, but my confidence as a worker is so low that I don’t even want to try to look for another job.  I feel so broken, frustrated and disappointed with my working-life that I can’t even bring myself to try and dig myself out of this hole.

It’s frustrating beyond all belief or logical comprehension.  I know I hate my job.  I know I could work somewhere else, get paid much more money than I make now and even enjoy what I’m doing.  And yet, I just can’t force myself.

I’m bracing myself for the responses to this post already from people saying that I’m a pussy or that I need to man up and just do what needs to be done.  Let me head this off at the pass and say, “Go fuck yourselves.”

Being great at pick-up does not solve everything.

Related posts:

1. Why I Hate a “Pick-up Artist”