One night after class I ran into a buddy of mine who I haven’t spoken to almost all semester and his friend who I’ve spoken to once briefly. Let’s call my buddy Justin and his friend Andrew. We were all done with classes and heading towards the train. We were shooting the shit on the walk to the train talking about classes, teachers, and plans after graduation.

Once we got inside the train station the conversation shifted to a mutual friend of ours. Let’s call him William. My friend told me that William was all of a sudden hitting the streets and bars solo to approach women. This caught my attention. William is a tall guy (6’6) of Eastern European decent, not a model but decent looking. They told me he got rejected by about 30 women last weekend and both laughed full-heartedly. They expected me to join along but I didn’t.

Our train came. They continued to make fun of William for being desperate and a loser for allowing himself to get rejected by that many women. I remembered the time I hit the bar with William. Back then he didn’t have the balls to talk to a single girl—he was the ultimate lurker. I was impressed by the change he made and pointed out that I thought it showed initiative not desperateness.

They both said, “Nah that’s desperateness” at the same time.

I posed the question, “Is it desperate to go after something you want?”

Andrew replied, “Well no, but not like that. You want to be the cool guy who walks into the room and girls are automatically attracted to.”

I took a moment to think of an appropriate answer. The only men I know that have women hitting on them are very good looking guys, celebrities, fictional characters in action movies, or guys who wear axe.


I asked, “So if women aren’t throwing themselves at you then you should just stay home and jerk off?”

Both responded they would rather jerk off then get rejected by that many women.

Our train arrived at the platform where we needed to transfer onto another train. There was a break in the conversation.

As we walked upstairs to catch our second train, Justin asked me what my notch count was. Once I told him Andrew instantly interrupted saying, “Wow you count? That’s so sad.”  Mind you my notch count is only in the 20’s. It isn’t an astronomical number one could have easily lost count of.

Justin pointed out that he counts as well (his is 11) but his friend still deemed it a sad act.

I waited till we boarded the second train to ask Andrew how many women he had been with. The answer was three. Gee, I wonder how he didn’t lose count?

Count 3


Although Justin did not think counting was sad, he did believe my notch count was creeping up to the “gross” level. He proudly said, “I would never sleep with that many women because I want a wife and it looks bad on your life resume.”

The irony of his statement was that out of all three of us, the guy with the “gross” notch count could snag a girlfriend first. All I had to do was text one of my fuck buddies and ask them to be exclusive; without a doubt they would jump on the offer.

There was a second irony to his statement. Two years ago we were discussing our notch count and mine was significantly lower than his (I was at 1 and his was 5). He made fun of me for my lack of experience, and now when the tables are turned, experience is gross.

There was another break in the conversation as we got off our second train to wait for our last train. Yes, taking that many trains is common in New York.

As we waited, Andrew told us the advice he gave William. His words of wisdom were to ignore girls and pay them no mind—that they will come to you. Our player of the year with three notches was preaching hard. Maybe I can get him to submit a post on gaming for ROK.

Our third train came. The subject changed to a less controversial topic. Three stops later my stop came and I exited the train giving the two a pound, determined to put distance in our friendship.

I caution every man to be aware of people like this. Weed these disturbances out of your social circle and life. These are the types of people who will label you a steroid-using meathead the moment you begin to get serious in the gym and lift more than them. These are the type of people who will call you anti-social the moment you begin to do better than them at school. These are the people who will call you a desperate loser the moment you walk up to that hottie they’ve been eye-fucking for an hour.

As good as it may feel to keep them around with the intention of proving them wrong or for old friend’s sake, it’s not worth it. Every time you fall they will push you down further because it’s how they rationalize their immobility and how they feed their rationalization hamster. They’re too lazy or afraid to take life by the horns so they want to see everyone around them on the same sinking boat. Anything to the contrary is a threat that must be shut down with ridicule.

Find friends who will high five you for getting rejected by a hot girl because they understand how much balls it takes to walk up to a desirable woman. Associate with these people and you’re more likely to achieve success.

Read More: Bronies: The Men Who Love “My Little Pony” Are Losers

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