On leaving a party at 11pm

I guess we’ve all been there. Whether it was a student house party or an unplanned night out. You have that must-attend lecture or an important sales presentation at 9am, but there you are. Stood in a bar or at a house party. The drinks are flowing. You look good; you feel good, the music is great, the women are responsive and everything is fantastic. Another hour, you tell yourself. I’ll set my alarm for 7am and get a coffee and a shower. Six hours sleep. Everything will be just great.

Right?

You wake, if you even slept, with that sense of still being pissed. You didn’t set your alarm. You are smashed, internally and externally. You didn’t go home with that hot girl. You missed your meeting/lecture. And in that moment, as you twist pathetically on your bed, with the mid-morning sunlight burning through your bedroom, you feel like a total fucking loser knowing that Wednesday night parties are not a good thing. Not now, not at your age.

Over the last 12 months I have been involved with two women I met from Daygame. One beautiful 23 year old Estonian (essentially Russian to all intents and purposes as she was from the east of the country) and more recently – now – today – a 20 year old Czech beauty. Some well-known players who have seen these girls describe them as 10s, 9s. One thing is for certain – they are very beautiful women with high SMV capital. A man almost twice their age should not be talking to them, much less dating them and certainly and unequivocally he shouldn’t be falling for them (and vice versa). Or so the rule book says.

Readers will know that The Narva Girl ended rather abruptly and harshly in June 2019 and it took me a couple of months to shake-off the emotional fatigue that ensued. Why would I fall for a girl that young, who barely spoke English, who was culturally and aesthetically attractive, but at the same time knowing that the essence of our relationship was as fragile as a doves’ nest in an Autumn tree. Beautiful to look at while it remains balanced, but on a timeline to failure. The only constant being the wind and the tree.

My argument – and battle – is of course biology. It remains impossible for a man (at least a man like me) to disassociate an emotional connection to a woman who is at the same time significantly more beautiful than most women you see, who is intriguing, articulate, intelligent, feminine, and, perhaps most dangerously – deeply interested in me. This becomes a slope you wilfully engage with. You delude your own ‘strength’ in thinking you are equipped with the ability to ‘easily walk away’, or to have the capacity to permanently short your emotional connection from the physical lust you have for such a woman in the time you spend with her. But if I was this type of man, would I be happy to have lobotomised myself of the ability to make a deeper commitment to a woman just to protect myself when it ends? Would I call this a victory insofar as I can masquerade across life as a automaton who can fuck, but also sacrifice those days spent in deep and engaging conversations, long phone calls, extended and meaningful non-sexual contact, train journeys together, or any myriad of the thousands of normal and personal interactions that form the litmus test of male/female compatibility. Is this truly what it is to be a man, to walk away from something meaningful?

Over the last two months I have spent a huge amount of time both in person and through text and phone calls with a beautiful Czech girl. We have become immersed in one-another. She has pulled me into her world. Her mixture of femininity, sexuality, intelligence and compliance is addictive. We can, and do, spend hours on the phone. We spent four days in Prague and her home town in our bubble.

But why?

We have already spoken that what we are doing is finite. The age difference, the incompatible life journey that stretches out in front of us. The doves’ nest sits in the tree and the early September winds are coming.

I ask myself, what, for me, is the essential point of Daygame? It is to challenge myself to meet beautiful young women. To fuck them, to smile together. To open a page and write a chapter and then add the final full stop. The caveat is that some chapters are longer than others, and some are never finished. This is also the eternal contradiction of Daygame. It can provide us some incredible and unforgettable life experiences. Travel, learning and of course – beautiful women. What we aren’t meant to do is fall for these women, the women who are too young, that have different lives to lead. We certainly aren’t supposed to have them fall for us for all of the ensuing chaos this can bring.

The biggest challenge is to fight against your biology. When we hit those strange proverbial bulls-eyes, as I in some respects appear to have done on some deeper levels with these two girls over the past 12 months, I have come to realise that the only way to embark on this journey – and survive the experience – is to lobotomise part of my makeup, my sensitivity and my capacity to enter the emotional landscape with that woman. But what is the point of this lie, to create a synthetic analogue of her investment in order that you can leave the experience unharmed? This is cowardice. I will not do it.

But the alternative is foolishness. It is foolish because Daygame, when employed correctly as an older man, will provide you women who are unquestionably beautiful, highly-desired and fascinating. But these are experiments; beautiful and fleeting experiments which are never designed, by virtue of the elements (age and youth) to have any degree of permanence. Undoubtedly they may leave memories and even scars. But the experience remains the same. We enter into them knowing that we must kill a part of ourselves before hand to survive it when it ends, or if we don’t, we deal with the end – as a man.

So here I am, again. Twelve months on. It’s 11pm. The music is great. The drinks are flowing. I feel great. Life is good. My alarm is set and I feel happy. I won’t repeat what I’ve done in the past. I’ve got my head screwed-on now. So fuck it. Let’s stay another hour.

I‘ve got this.

BroodingSea