I have been back in Australia a month now from Eastern Europe. I head to Bangkok next week so with a bit of luck Micky with have some more debaucherous stories for you dirty fuckers that read this blog. I have enjoyed my month off and have taken time to consider the secret of life. It’s not happiness, although that’s part of it. It’s contentedness. The irony is you need to be discontented to experience contentment. Ying and Yang. I have come to learn that the human body, through it’s evolution, needs a level of stress everyday to thrive. The stress needs to be physical, mental and emotional. Too much overwhelms, too little stagnates. As a travelling daygamer with a portable office I can get my physical from gym and stalking the streets looking for unsuspecting girls, my mental from work and writing hobbies, and emotional from the up and down of jumping in front of girls with my dick out (metaphorically) and dating.
But I wondered about achievement. Certainly there is the drive to achieve, but as I reflected, the contentment from achievement is very short lived. This made sense evolutionary since it propels you to jump to the next thing straight after achieving anything. I considered, since achievement is always anti-climactic, wouldn’t it be better to just focus on the day and the stresses that keep me healthy. I could de-prioritize achievement and consider it as a by-product of working hard to keep myself stressed at just the right level. I would keep healthy by exercising, grow my business by working, and get better at seduction by hitting on girls. But the priority was in the work, not the goal.
At the end of my “eurojaunt” I was in Warsaw and reflecting on my trip. It wasn’t above my expectations, but I had achieved what I wanted. I had fucked 4 hot white girls in the previous eight weeks. How did I feel about my success? It was anti-climactic. I was looking forward to getting home. There were some good memories, fucking girls that looked just like I had dreamt of; young, smooth light skinned stomachs, blonde hair… But that’s all they were, memories. They hadn’t changed me and they didn’t give me a ticket to repeat it.
The only thing I was really grateful for was that I hadn’t failed. I had set myself up for a devastating failure by not considering the possibility of not getting laid. There were only a few degrees of difference from getting the four notches and not getting any. I approached over 200 girls. If I hadn’t met those 4 I may have been 200 to nil. As I considered this I realised I wouldn’t be any different if I hadn’t fucked any girls. Except I wouldn’t know I wouldn’t be any different, because I hadn’t fucked them. I would only be devastated by failure and the feelings of missing out.
What If I didn’t get laid? I loved the lifestyle; staying in airbnb’s, not speaking the language, working in cafés, hitting on girls, and hanging out with other daygamers. I met great guys on this trip; Mark, Lorchan, Steve, Rob and my old friend Ian. I had embraced the daygame lifestyle, but was I a daygamer if I didn’t get laid? Of course I was, but could I handle the shame of being a daygamer that didn’t get laid? Maybe. Luckily it wasn’t something I had to deal with. And having got the four notches on this trip, even if my next trip was less successful, or an outright failure, then I had this to fall back on as a reference experience.
When I got back to Australia I was smashed with jetlag for a week and this, combined with coming down from an eight week daygame dopamine fuelled trip, sent me into a mild depression. In my introspection I looked at achievement again and remembered some of the best times in my life were when I was striving to achieve something that I truly believed would change my life. But on reflection the achievement was never very satisfying.
How was I to cope with that? How was I to cope with the truth that achieving goals is not that great, but striving for goals brought a lot of contentment, as long as I was in denial that the achievement would make my life better than ever. You can’t un-take the red pill. Then I heard in a podcast the missing element. “The goal of everyday needs to be to improve yourself from the day before”. It hit me like a tonne of bricks. This was the final piece of the puzzle. I stress myself everyday physically, mentally, and emotionally just enough to not overwhelm myself, and the goal is self-improvement.
I have other goals. I want my business to grow so I can be a millionaire, support my kids, and maybe even a bit of provider game in my old age. I want to be a famous author so I can play eco-system game and fuck my fans like Charles Bukowski (Yes, I recognise my goals are mostly about getting laid or looking after the kids that resulted from). These goals a not going to happen from wishing or reading “The Secret”. These goals are more likely to materialise by staying healthy, living a balanced life and continually trying to improve myself by working on these goals. The best thing is that staying healthy, living a balanced life and continually trying to improve myself is a means unto itself. It gives me something to do each day and meaning to life.
As much as I would like it to be true I cannot accept there is loving God that has a vested interest in my welfare. There is unlikely a life after death. I cannot swallow objective morality. There is only me and I am the only one who truly cares for my welfare. Any compassion or altruism I feel is nothing but a selfish strategy for survival and replication. I have to wake up each morning and find purpose in what I believe is a purposeless universe. I have a survival instinct and I chose to embrace it rather than fight it. I will make the most of survival. I will hunt, build, create and fuck. I will spend my time getting better at these until I am too old and then just smoke weed and tell stories to all my grand kids.