A commentator called Freshman recently bemoaned his lack of success with women over on the Rational Male. His argument was that external factors beyond the control of the player, such as looks and height, are fundamental to determining success to a degree not normally acknowledged by game sites and the manosphere.
“I am a college student and it’s so ruthless out here for the average, let alone below-average looking guy EVEN WITH GAME. I say this as a guy who’s been in the game for nearly five years (I first read David DeAngelo’s and Pook’s book when I was 14 years old). As this last semester passed, I’m becoming more convinced that things that we cannot control (like looks and height) are so detrimental towards consistent and high-levels of success with girls.”
Freshman then describes how he attended a party and saw girls he had previously been rejected by getting affectionate with guys better looking and taller than himself.
“One can’t help but wonder if it really is all worth it . . . these guys didn’t rack up the approaches or put in the time like I did. They don’t have Krauser, Roosh or you to guide them. I did but where did that leave me? Chicks don’t give a shit about what you know but rather, how you look and how they will look with you . . . Red pill knowledge won’t make a guy hotter, it will simply make him smarter. Pretty girls do pick and choose who they want to fuck and it often isn’t the most charming or socially suave guy out there. It’s usually the tallest, most masculine guy in her social circle.”
Of course, the “looks trump game” meme is so persistent that you may wonder why I bring it up again here. Well, partly because something in Freshman’s story touched me, and partly because – let’s be honest – he’s right. Or rather, he’s not wrong. There’s a difference.
Even Roosh, in his latest post, concedes that game has got harder for the average man in the last few years, largely due to the ubiquity of social media, apps like Tinder and Instagram, and the technology that delivers these right into a girl’s hand while she’s in the club. These days, the chances of getting blown out for a fluffed approach or a simple mistake are much higher than before, simply because women have so many more options – or the perception of such, at least.
As for looks, well, we all know Freshman’s got a point, don’t we? As much as game evangelists are at pains to deny it, the reality is that – all else being equal – a man’s facial attractiveness, height, and muscularity all play a central role in eliciting female attraction and commensurate sexual reward.
Freshman posts a link to a thread on the Roosh V forum where a man conducted an experiment on Tinder by placing a fake profile using photographs of a male model. He was soon inundated – to a shocking degree – with matches and flirtatious approaches from attractive women.
I have recently taken to frequenting a particularly louche club event in London – essentially a sex party – where attendees, both male and female, are encouraged to wear very little and where pretty much anything goes. I can tell you from my observations there that, perhaps depressingly, the cutest girls are often to be found with the best looking, most buff men by the end of the night.
But this is hardly news, is it? The question for men like Freshman–and all men, really–is, is this it? Is the sexual marketplace really sewn up, owned by buff, cocky, alpha jerks with no room left for the “average” man?
I can tell you categorically that it’s not – that there is hope. But – and here’s the thing – if you’re an “average” guy looking for “consistent and high-levels of success with girls” as Freshman is, rather than simply a dumpy girlfriend, then you have to really, really want it badly. You have to want it to an almost unhealthy degree. You have to be so obsessed with scoring random pussy that when, in moments of clarity, you think about it rationally, you realise that how much you want it, and the sacrifices you are willing to make in pursuit of it are worryingly disproportionate.
Let me tell you a few facts about myself. I am of average height and naturally have a skinny build (although have been working out for many years now and have put on muscle mass). I am OK looking but nothing approaching model quality. I am by nature an introvert. When I was at school I was shy and too eager to please.
The cutest girls consistently overlooked me for hotter, sexier guys. This massacred my self-confidence for the longest time, initiating a downward spiral of pedestalisation, friendzoning, and despair. I actually believed for some time that I was unworthy of intimacy even with the least attractive women.
Astonishingly for everyone who knew me, when I finally got my first girlfriend aged twenty, she was a stunner. This was more by luck by design – I was horrible at game back then (the girl dumped me after a few months). But I had sought outside help for the depression that I had been suffering from.
Relieved of this, I cared less what other people thought of me, and began wearing flamboyant clothes and acting in an aloof, even arrogant manner – not to attract women, but simply because for the first time in my life I felt emboldened to express myself socially in a free and uncompromising manner. The girl was a welcome side-effect of this newfound confidence.
After that first girl had broken up with me, and I had tasted sex and companionship with a highly physically attractive partner that was the envy of my friends, the genie was out of the bottle. Something had shifted inside. I could now no longer endure the thought of going back to my old, celibate, onanistic self.
Failure with women was simply not an option. I don’t use that phrase metaphorically, as a hackneyed self-help aphorism, but literally. My self-image was now so bound up in meeting and attracting girls of the same or a higher calibre than my ex, that I would do absolutely anything, whatever it took, to ensure that it continued.
In practice, this meant going to nightclubs all night seven nights a week until I was beat, bleary-eyed, and exhausted, propositioning every girl in the place. It meant suffering humiliating rejections, again and again. It meant following up every single phone number I ever acquired. It meant going on date after fruitless, boring date. It meant staying up with a girl until 6am on a workday trying to get the bang.
It sometimes meant travelling to foreign countries under some pretext to close a chick that I’d gamed on holiday. It meant the ignominy of experimenting with online dating. It meant going everywhere from the pounding palaces of house music in Ibiza to the grimiest rock clubs in Manchester, searching for that elusive diamond in the rough.
It meant reading every piece of game advice I could get my hands on – books, ebooks, blogs and increasingly, as technology improved, watching pick-up videos. It meant working out every day, running for cardio and becoming obsessed with fashion, spending thousands of pounds on clothes. It meant being single-minded and persistent almost to the point of insanity. It meant addiction.
If all of this sounds like a lot of work just for pussy, then you’re right – it is. But it also allowed me to acquire a higher notch-count of girls in the 7+ range of anyone outside the community I’ve ever met with the exception of one natural, who fits the tall-handsome-alpha bill. I don’t say this to boast, but merely to point out that human ingenuity is such that if you want something badly enough and you go all out for it, then you will get it.
Freshman says elsewhere in the thread that he has made a great many approaches and I have no reason to doubt it. I do wonder, though, in cases like his, the degree of passion that has been injected into the project. As has been said many times before, if you had a gun pointed at your head you could achieve almost anything. I was lucky – or unlucky – enough to face that gun.
Whether it was all worth it is another matter. My life is now a lot more balanced. As you mature your desire for strange poon – while perhaps not diminishing – is certainly ameliorated by the recognition that our time on this planet is short, and that there are other things that are much more worth pursuing.
We now live in a time where there are more excellent, freely available resources for men looking to get good with girls than ever before. This site, the Roosh V forum, Krauser’s site and so on. It’s not hard – just do a Google search. All the technology you require is out there, and any fool can go out and approach one hundred women. All you need is the will.
But I’m not sure that this can be faked. Krauser has pointed out that all highly successful players are to some degree emotionally damaged people, and I too have observed this to be the case. This is perhaps the darker side of game that people would rather not acknowledge.
If you are not driven to the degree I’ve described, but would nevertheless like to enjoy the player lifestyle, my advice would be to fake it to make it. Rather like a method actor, imagine how you would behave, what lengths you would go to for pussy if you were obsessive about it in the manner I’ve described, and then undertake those actions.
Perform with as much intensity, passion and gusto as you can muster, and over time you will start to see results. You won’t necessarily beat the good-looking, square-jawed alphas, but you’ll get more than your share. After a few successes these strategies will begin to hardwire themselves into your brain and become part of your personality and you will find yourself in an upward cycle of pleasure and reward.
Or, if you don’t think it’s worth the effort, then by all means continue watching from the sidelines. Just don’t complain that the game is rigged when there are less attractive men than you out there getting laid right now.