Peacocking, fashion, and a guy who tragically friend-zones himself

Xbtusd is back with more tales from the game.

My buddy is a successful Asian guy, in his 30s, and he winds up at a party with a bunch of Gen Z types, college and just post-college, who are there presumably doing what people try to do: hook up. My buddy’s wearing some very distinctive, polarizing things that also help conversation flow: he’s peacocking, in other words. His outfit helps him open a bunch of chicks, and some chicks even open him. Peacocking is an interesting strategy… I think peacocking needs to come off as both playful and masculine. The gap between “playful” and “goofy” can be narrow, but even goofy can work if the guy can transition to masculine dominance and identity. (Red Quest hasn’t done a lot of peacocking, he says). I’d guess that guys who peacock hard, like Mystery did, also need strong killer instinct and sexual vibe, otherwise they get friendzoned like I believe my buddy did. But he really friendzoned himself, by not acting on the girls expressing interest.

I’m going to bring race into the discussion, but also acknowledge that race serves as a proxy for a lot of things. I don’t want the discussion to get hung up on race in particular. Asian men are desexualized in American culture, black men are hypersexualized. Be aware of how you present. If you’re short, you might have to make up for that by being a little more masculine in other ways. If you’re Asian, you’re going to want to stay away from things that reinforce the stereotypes women already have about Asian men. Thus, when peacocking, you want to make sure you stay far from goofy, and do things that attract attention but in a masculine way. Maybe more in the vein of BDSM style gear. Race is just one factor for how women perceive you before you open your mouth, but it’s an important one.

According to my buddy, one hot girl was particularly interested, but he never tried to bang her, let alone kiss her. Wait, what—why? I ask him. He doesn’t entirely know. Is he afraid of the girl saying no? When I was young and dumb(er), I was afraid of “no.” He may be in effect friendzoning himself, if he doesn’t make the move. From my gf’s report, my buddy and the hot girl’s energy quickly grew into friend energy. The two of them became part of the project to facilitate my gf hooking up with a guy at the party she thought was hot. Having a shared project can be a fantastic narrative to allow you to bond with a woman, but you have to make sure the context of the shared project isn’t “friends,” but romantic partners who are building sexual chemistry. Escalation is key, in particular touch. Timing is critical, because the window can close quickly. Chicks are capricious, so when her buying temp is high, act.

Was he afraid to kiss her? I think he would say no, he’s not afraid of “no.” I think he is afraid of no.

A threesome saga: energy & vibe

XBTUSD is back, now with a threesome story.

I was at an unbelievable, aspirational, can’t-believe-people-live-like-this party last week, thrown by a relatively new friend who lives in a stunning, straight-out-of-Architectural-Digest Brownstone with a stage/amphitheater built into the backyard and hot tub on the roof of the second floor looking into the backyard. The main event was a backyard concert featuring a South American band led by stunningly beautiful women. The host and owner has constructed an incredible universe and filled it with the exact kind of people one wants to spend one’s life around, including “Madison.” The party had the energy of freshman year of college, that first week when everyone is open to meeting new people. Strangely, for this type of event, no one there seemed to know each other. The party started an hour before showtime, so when I arrived everyone was already mingling and getting to know each other.

At one point during the show I was crowded close enough to where Madison stood that it would have been more awkward not to introduce myself, so I did and the conversation naturally flowed. She had an effervescent personality, and we immediately clicked. She was in town from the West coast and wanted tips on what to do while she was in the city. We eventually migrated indoors to have a little more privacy. The conversation quickly moved into intimate topics like sex, sexuality, and non-monogamy. Unsurprisingly she was in an ethically non-monogamous (ENM) relationship, and like most of the sluts I know was bi-sexual.

Around this point my gf joined us and the three of us hit it off.

The beautiful privileges of the hot chick, and the disposability of the father

This short piece about hot chick Julia Fox is more revealing than it should be,

An older sister in one of those households worked as a dominatrix. “She would look at herself in the mirror, with the fish-nets and the PVC and the platforms,” Fox said. “And, in the back of my mind, I always knew it was an option.” In her last year of high school, she said, “I answered a Craigslist ad, when they still had the adult section, and I biked over after school and got the job.” A long-term romantic relationship with a wealthy older man, a client, followed. “I used to pray all the time that a guy would come in and take me away, and then it happened,” she said. “We were together for five years. He wanted me to marry him, and I loved him so much, but he wanted me to wear, like, Ralph Lauren Purple Label and Tory Burch. I felt like I was always playing a part.”

We get the normalization of sex work. But we also see a common bit of female fantasy, one that is nonetheless rarely represented in the media, that a man “would come in and take me away.” She’s young and hot, so she reaches out, and he does: such is the power of young hot female privilege. The writer doesn’t contemplate what happens to young guys in the same perilous circumstances… to most women, guys who they deem below them don’t exist, except as service workers, and as the people who keep their computers and phones working. Fox says, “In my personal life, I’m not having, like, crazy-wild sex.” She might be right, might be wrong, might have her internal compass set funny… she has a “five-month-old son, Valentino,” but we learn nothing at all about the father. To the chick writer and to Julia Fox, whoever inseminated her might as well not exist???

This is the middlebrow worldview, today. Sex work is good, fun, and liberating. Men are sources of cash and, should a woman need it, some semen. Being hot means a chick’ll make it in this world. The family is dead and unimportant. In current cultural conditions, is this wrong? Not, “should it be wrong?” but is it wrong? Julia says of sex, “It’s a necessary bodily function.” Yeah, cause for a hot chick, it’s available on demand, but, for the rest of us: the game. Love it or hate it, it is here, tantalizing you, to master the secrets of the p***y.

Your choice is to struggle, or die. I choose struggle. No one is going to come in and take me away (unless it’s to the gulag, for wrongthink).

If you are wondering whether Julia Fox is smart overall, listen to this podcast, and your questions will be answered. You will also discover real-time narrative formation for chicks… the podcast message is, “There’s never been a better time to be a player”… or a worse time to be a provider. Which will you be?

Game lessons and thoughts during an MDMA roll

Last weekend, I rolled pretty hard with a woman and spent some time wandering a nearby strip of bars, where we chatted with and encouraged a lot of strangers… MDMA can make a person feel intensely social, and we felt a lot of that energy and chose to express it by going out. We also dressed differently than most people, closer to something like this and far from the typical street clothes, dresses, or slacks and collared shirts most people wore. I realized that we were peacocking: being shiny and different, in a way that worked. My companion got most of the attention, which is fine and expected, it’s a shame she’s not bisexual. A bisexual wingwoman in that environment would have killed. Even without being bi, she create and we engendered a lot of positive feelings… we felt at one with the human species, a sense that is hard to cultivate in everyday life. And we felt at one with each other.

Trying to describe the mental state an MDMA roll engenders is impossible… those of you who’ve experienced it will be nodding along with the descriptions above, those of you who haven’t will probably be rolling your eyes. A well-done molly roll, if it’s done with people who like each other in the first place, is a powerful bonding agent, of a sort I didn’t realize when I was younger. During this roll, I felt more of that. Alcohol is common, but it sucks by comparison. Learning MDMA is like becoming part of a secret society.

One of the hard parts about game and dating: when doing nothing is the best option

Game teaches men to control and channel our emotions, but one of the hardest parts about the game, in my experience and, it seems, in many others’, is doing nothing. Saying nothing. Not responding, when every emotional fiber of one’s being cries out to respond. Those are the times when a chick texts something, and I yearn to text back what I think, or to convince her to act, but in my rational mind, I know that saying zero is the right move, and that my emotional yearnings must be curtailed.

“Impatience” is often the handmaiden of failed game. A few days ago, I met a chick I’ve loosely known for about nine months. I have a lot of logistical complexity, and she has some too, and I’ve run hot and cold by accident, because I know I shouldn’t try to bang her, but she’s also a hot 8, and looks and smells like sex, so here I am, wanting to bang her.

The “club” world’s underlying darkness, and the non-monogamy world

I.

A few weeks ago I went over to some “clubs” with some friends (clubs of the sort I expect are dying: it’s something I don’t normally do, but the crowd urged me to go and I went with the crowd (what, it happens sometimes, you never do?)), and the club, despite its reputation and slutty Instagram feed, was strangely grim: too many guys and too few women, and the guys were circling the area, hunting, seemingly, for any hint of female attention. Superficially, a big happy party, but just under the surface, desperation, attention-seeking… the sorts of things any person with modest emotional intelligence could perceive. Perhaps people drink to dull whatever emotional intelligence they have. Without coke, I don’t think these places would exist.

A lot of the people were trying to be sexually successful but would probably be more sexually successful if they quit alcohol, sugar, and other simple carbs.