Breaking Beta

The Journey of a Man

The Most Awkward Morning of my Life.

The most awkward moment of my life is not a moment I hope will be trumped anytime soon.

I met a girl on Tinder, we met up, hungout and decided to see each other again. She lived outside of the city so I only got to see her when she could come into the city. Things were pretty casual. One night she asked me if I would come and spend the night at her place.
“Do you live with your parents?”
“Yeah I live with my dad and brother.”
“Are they going be home?”
“My dad works late and sleeps in late.”

To get where she lived required an hour and a half bus ride and transferring buses in a town with one of the highest crime rates in Canada. She pretty much lived in the middle of nowhere. I gathered enough shit for the night, took a quick hit and then set out on my mission.

She lived in a neighborhood that’s just as bad as you imagine and just as bad as I hoped it wasn’t. A rural wooden church with its white paint peeling off was right next-door. Inside, her room was scant and felt like it was decorated 9 year earlier. Between the leftovers of her childhood pink bedroom theme and her single bed, I knew I’d made a mistake. Too late now, I’m in the middle of nowhere.

We were packed like sardines in her single bed and it got even better when she decided she didn’t want to do anything besides sleep. I can’t believe I rode an hour and a half to sleep in a shared single bed. My half of the bed was reduced to a quarter trying to deal with my hard sexual desire. There is no comfortable position in a shared single bed with a boner, trust me.

The next morning my alarm rang. I had to get to the bus and begin the long trek home. It was at this point that she decides to keep me in bed with that she withheld last night. No protest from me I’ll just catch the next bus. Guess what, I missed the second bus too. Finally, as I’m preparing to catch the third bus I hear it, noise outside of the door. Ladies and gentlemen her father is awake; pure fear. I had no idea how these country folk handle city boys like me but I knew her father could bury me in the backyard and nobody would ever find the body.

I need to catch this bus so I tell her to scope things out and clear me a path. She comes back in her room and assures me the coast is clear. Along the hallway leading to my imminent escape is a bathroom door. We sneak-out of her room, she rounds the corner by the bathroom and as she does the bathroom door swings on and I am left face-to-face with her father wearing absolutely nothing but his underwear.

I was a deer in headlights. I didn’t know what to do.  I think he didn’t know what to do either because both gave each other the head nod. Instead of opening the door in the next room, making my exit clean and easy, she just hung in the kitchen leaving me trapped. This meant I had to have conversation with her box-wearing father and older brother.
“So what’s this one’s name?” Ouch.
I gave my first name and a fake last name. He asked where I was front, I lied about that too and then had excruciatingly painful small talk. I bounced at the first opportunity.

What surprised me most was her clear indifference to the situation giving me absolutely no help. Between the comment of “Oh what’s this one’s name?” and the bemused look on her face as she enjoying this awkward of encounters, I decided I never wanted to see this girl again. I was hungry, tired, and ready to forget about my misadventure into the boonies. I neither texted her nor heard from her again.

You will one day meet a girl’s father… I just hope you don’t have to do it the morning after when he’s wearing his boxers.

Final Year Cash Out

“Go Big or go home.”

September marks the beginning of the end, the first month of my last year in university. And like Van Wilder I don’t want the party to end. In my first year at university I did a lot of stupid shit and gave zero fucks. I fucked a lot of girls, did a lot of wild shit and burnt a lot of bridges. In short I was/am an animal.

I don’t regret the sex or questionable decisions, I learned from those experiences. What I do regret is being an asshole when I didn’t need to be. After my first year, a couple times I year I would show up to a party and one of my haterz would be there. Other times I start seeing a girl only to find out she was friends with someone I screwed over.

With age comes wisdom, I learned how to not care what people thought without pissing them off. I went from having something to prove to everyone to just not caring what most people thought.

At the same time I wanted to wash away ‘bad blood’. Apologizing is one of the hardest things a man can do. It’s about swallowing your pride and making someone else more important. Not everyone got an apology, just the people I knew deserved it.

——–

For myself, fourth year is an odd time. On the one hand I want to leave this place with a ‘good taste’ in my mouth and on the other hand I want to make the most of my final lap. So this year is a little bit of both; mending fences and fucking shit up.

Some girls I never made an aggressive move for. I played things safe and never expressed overt interest. With limited time left, the time for playing things safe has ended. Right now, I am doing alright for myself but it isn’t enough. I have to cash out… Exhaust all possibilities.

 

Could be some interesting stories that emerge from this attitude… Stay tuned.

Latest Update- Sept 2014

I’ve been having a busy month so far; the first couple weeks of university always are. Fine fly college girls are everywhere. Still early enough in the year that girls are trying with their outfits and still warm enough for booty shorts.

I’ve been checking a cute little redhead I met off Tinder. She’s into me and I like her too but it’s still too early to say.

Besides that been laying some solid ground work with some other fly girls. Had a rager party the other night when I had a seriously awkward moment with a group of girls. One of them I turned down 2 years ago, one I slept with 3 years ago, one I asked out at the gym 3 years ago (she was seeing someone at the time), and the fourth girl I went out with her best friend a couple times.
Drake knew the struggle when he said “Cause I just seem my ex girl standing with my next girl standing with the one that I’m fucking right now.”
I must have done something right because they invited me to their house party next week. Shit could get interesting.

———–

Been digging on a couple of tracks from G-Eazy’s “These Things Happen”.

What Not to do on a First Date

To most of you this will be a no brainer.

 

Do not smoke on the first date unless she smokes regularly or brings it up first.

 

The Most Lethal Mindset You Could Have

Complacency has been an all too common characteristic in my life. When it comes to the opposite sex, I consider myself in the mid-range when it comes to interaction. I am capable of ‘making it happen’ but not hungry enough to be consistent. When I’ve gone out or been to parties, I get stuck in my own head. Instead of making friends or striking up a conversation, I let the proud little voice in my head convince me “I’m better than this”. This is a lethal mindset.  Not only because it’s proud and dickish, it also bets on a future that allows you to escape the accountability of the Now.

“Tomorrow’s party will have better people I want to talk to.”
“This place sucks, I can’t wait to go to [insert: Blank] where I’ll find way better girls.”
“I could get these girl if I really wanted to.”

This mindset reminds me of my favorite bar sign- “Free Beer tomorrow!” Tomorrow is both now and a future that never arrives.

The lesson for me and you is that being friendly at a party makes things more fun for yourself and everyone around you.  You have a lot more to lose looking bored and shy than you do being boisterous and friendly. Even if you are nervous, trying to pull off the ‘stoic look’ leaves you dependent on the other person to make interesting conversation. You will likely come off more as a black hole of social-energy, lacking anything interesting or exciting. On the flipside, being bold and a little bit boisterous makes it easier getting to know people. You look more fun, interesting, and you have the upper-hand having made conversation. Don’t think about it like lame social-engineering, think about what will gain friends and maximize your fun. Fuck trying to look ‘cool’ let’s just go have fun!

The Flight Attendant

It was the last leg of my flight back home to my East Coast spot. The flight was scheduled for 3 hours worth of delays. Nobody was enjoying this. Even worse, the terminal was a tiny tin can. And then all of the sudden the delay went from 10:45pm to 9:15pm; they gave us a new plane.

The plane was seated for 50 people. I went from one small tin can to another. But while boarding I noticed the flight attendant was astonishingly attractive. Curly hair, beautiful eyes and a couple other features I liked. Once our flight was underway she came by and took my order. I told her to bring me two cups because I was so parched. She mentioned noticing me in the terminal and we made small talk. It was at this point that she “Gave me the look”.

That look that tells you the ball is in your court. She doesn’t unleash those pretty eyes like that on just anyone; she meant to do that.

After the second time I knew what I had to do. I pulled out my moleskine. Ripped off a piece of grid paper, wrote her a note saying I’d like to get to know her and she should message me. I didn’t want to embarrass her on the job so I slipped the note into a folded two-dollar bill. She told me that she wanted visit the country where I have my other house, so I used giving her the bill as a discreet way of giving her the note.

—-

This happened recently so we’ll have to wait and see what happens next time she visits my city. We’re messaging with positive vibes so I’ll treat her right and we’ll wait and see!

Breaking Beta 2.0 – Restarting this Journal

I thought I closed this chapter on my life. I thought this journal would be forever shelved like a period of life I could look back on. I couldn’t have been more wrong…

Now almost 5 years later, everything is different. I tried to move beyond this journal thinking I had reached a level of proficiency with women that could shed this ‘beginner’ self-styled journal. Instead of progress I become complacent. I didn’t think I had to work for it, it would “just happen naturally”. And it did, for a while. I quit following what worked for lazy ‘do what I felt like’. I quit working out, and I quit sharpening my skills generally. I failed to see my own slow atrophy.

It began with lying to myself. The confidence that I originally was used to approach women now was used to make excuses of why they weren’t good enough. Instead of finding the balls to expand my borders with stories of hilarious triumph and failure, my failures were typified by my inability to even talk to a girl I found attractive.

I became “too good” to run techniques I knew worked. My flirting went from tactical, funny, and bold, to lazy, dry and boring. Instead of light teasing I would dryly poke fun at my own awkwardness or hate on someone else in the room. The decline continued.

Looking back, I can see I am my own worst enemy. The voice in my cranium telling me I’m too good for techniques and failure while same time telling me I’m not good enough for the cute girl in front of me. The last several years have been littered with one night stands, first dates that never panned out, and Trojan horse rejects called “Let’s just be friends”.

Failure hasn’t been everything. There was a fly French girl who I apathetically let slip through my fingers. There was the girl who stayed with me for three nights while I was stuck in New York because of blizzards. There girl was whose father I ran into the morning as I was sneaking out the back (stay tuned because I’m posting that story in a couple days). And there was the Christian girl who I met on the street one day and once in bed asked me if I had ever had my B***s sucked. None of these girls stuck around. I couldn’t find the desire in myself to make them want stay. They couldn’t find a reason to stay with the guy who was at his best 4 years earlier and has been just coasting ever since.

Now almost 5 years since I started this journal, I’m wiping away the fog off the mirror and looking at myself clearly: A gaunt 125lb. muscle-less frame built from eating shit food and misses meals when stressed. I think if someone hit me with a good punch I might split in half. A confidence level so low I desperately clamber for attention from girls on Tinder. A debilitating anxiety about going gym that leads me to drinking or just curling up in bed. Self-over-analysis that means I can’t do anything without picking myself part into little self-hating pieces.

I don’t know how I am going to do it. Fuck, I don’t even feel like I can! It all starts with a choice: either I do or I don’t.
It ain’t about how hard you can hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. About how much you can takea hit and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done.”  – Ricky Balboa

I thought I closed this chapter on my life. I was wrong. This speech feels like appropriate last words for this first (new) entry.

“I don’t know what to say really.
Three minutes
to the biggest battle of our professional lives
all comes down to today.
Either
we heal
as a team
or we are going to crumble.
Inch by inch
play by play
till we’re finished.
We are in hell right now, gentlemen
believe me
and
we can stay here
and get the shit kicked out of us
or
we can fight our way
back into the light.
We can climb out of hell.
One inch, at a time.

Now I can’t do it for you.
I’m too old.
I look around and I see these young faces
and I think
I mean
I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make.
I uh….
I pissed away all my money
believe it or not.
I chased off
anyone who has ever loved me.
And lately,
I can’t even stand the face I see in the mirror.

You know when you get old in life
things get taken from you.
That’s, that’s part of life.
But,
you only learn that when you start losing stuff.
You find out that life is just a game of inches.
So is football.
Because in either game
life or football
the margin for error is so small.
I mean
one half step too late or to early
you don’t quite make it.
One half second too slow or too fast
and you don’t quite catch it.
The inches we need are everywhere around us.
They are in ever break of the game
every minute, every second.

On this team, we fight for that inch
On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us
to pieces for that inch.
We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch.
Cause we know
when we add up all those inches
that’s going to make the fucking difference
between WINNING and LOSING
between LIVING and DYING.

I’ll tell you this
in any fight
it is the guy who is willing to die
who is going to win that inch.
And I know
if I am going to have any life anymore
it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch
because that is what LIVING is.
The six inches in front of your face.

Now I can’t make you do it.
You gotta look at the guy next to you.
Look into his eyes.
Now I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch with you.
You are going to see a guy
who will sacrifice himself for this team
because he knows when it comes down to it,
you are gonna do the same thing for him.

That’s a team, gentlemen
and either we heal now, as a team,
or we will die as individuals.
That’s football guys.
That’s all it is.
Now, whattaya gonna do?”

–        Al Pacino (film: Any Given Sunday)

Today, I start clawing my way out of hell. One inch at a time.

Alpha Cinema 5 of 5

Lesson #5: Respectful but unapologetic

Alpha Cinema 4 of 5

Lesson #4: Confidence in the Face of Adversity

Be Confident, humble and honest.

Alpha Cinema 3 of 5

Lesson #3:

Honest. Interesting. Confident. Unflustered.

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