Today is a 20mcg day. Feeling pretty good, I have to say. I think 20 mcg is my new microdose. But we’ll get to that in a second.
This is going to sound gay as fuck, but two things that have helped my game immensely in the past few days have been purely cosmetic in nature.
I’m talking about fur coats and colored contact lenses.
Now now, I know what you’re thinking. Papi has finally gone off the fucking deep end with this microdosing shit, but hear me out. This shit works. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but it does.
Since it’s cold as fuck here in New York and it looks like I’ll be staying here for at least another month or two, I knew I needed to buy a winter jacket. I’ve been trying to survive in my Abercrombie hoodie but it hasn’t been easy. I decided I didn’t want to buy the same $200 H&M peacoat that I see everyone wearing around town, so I hit up a vintage clothing store in Brooklyn.
I remember hearing somewhere that when you shop vintage, you should also look in the women’s section. Because fashion changes so much over the years, it’s possible that there’s some overlap between the fashion between the different genders. I took this to heart and started where any self respecting straight man would: the racks of fur coats.
Most of them were obviously too small for me. I had just come from the gym and was enjoying a nice little pump, but then I found it: a long fur coat that actually fit me perfectly. The sleeves were the perfect length, it was super soft and strangely heavy as fuck. I didn’t think it was real, but when I checked the tag on the lining it said “Ramlin Furs.”
I googled the company and all I could find was some reference to an old vintage site that talked about how some person’s grandmother died and left them a Ramlin fur. Something like that. I don’t remember.
It was only $25 so I figured fuck it. If nothing else, at least I’d have something nice to wear for Halloween.
Let me tell you, it takes balls to walk around wearing a giant fur coat as a man. Even in New York City. But the more I did it, the more used to it I got. Yes, people looked. But no lie, they were jealous.
Black people would stop me on the street and be like Oooooo honey I LOVE that JACKET! I love it too, honey.
I’d walk by groups of guys and hear them say damn that jacket is FIRE.
Literally every time I wear this thing, I get non stop compliments from people. Of course there are a few haters who will be like oh that’s not real, and they can choose to believe whatever they want. But you can clearly see where the hide has been sewn to the lining. One of these girls who is in the Jewish circuit is actually a fashion designer, and she gave it a full inspection one night when I wore it out.
Apparently it’s something called Mouton, which is a type of sheepskin. According to her, brand new it would cost around $2k. Not bad for a starter fur coat.
And Jesus Christ this thing is so fucking WARM it’s unreal. I recently shaved my head after getting a bad haicut, so not only am I warm even despite that, but I look like some kind of weird Russian drug dealer walking around Manhattan with a fucking fur coat. I love it.
Which brings me to my next weird thing that I’m doing: colored contacts.
My eyes are naturally hazel, which is kind of a cross between green and brown. Most of the iris is green, but with brown “spokes” coming out from the pupil. From my time selling hair straighteners, I’ve always been aware that the louder you dress, the more attention you attract to yourself and the easier it is to get people to stop and engage with you. So at one point I decided to order some color contacts.
This was when I was in Australia, but I never actually had the balls to put them in. I always thought it was kind of gay for a man to wear colored contacts, even if they look natural. But it being Halloween, I decided to let my inner gay man come out and try them on. After a frustrating hour of poking myself in the eye repeatedly, I found a proper YT tutorial that showed me how you’re actually supposed to do it.
To my surprise, not only did they look amazing, but they actually looked very natural. A very piercing blue color that is uncommon with people who have my coloring. Some people ask me if they’re contacts, but not as many as you would think. Maybe 1 in 20 people that I have a conversation with will spot it right away. And of course the people that I already know remember that my eyes aren’t blue.
But holy shit, the amount of compliments that I get on them is insane. Every conversation now contains some kind of compliment about how beautiful my eyes are. Crazy how much $30 can do for your appearance. Even my guy friends say it looks good.
At first I was a little nervous to leave the house with them on. I was worried that people would be able to tell that they were fake and that I’d seem like some kind of try hard homo. Which I totally am, but normally I’m good at hiding that shit.
TLDR: Nobody cared. In fact, the response was overwhelmingly positive. Just like the fur coat thing.
And the amount of confidence that they give you is also kind of insane. It’s so much easier to make eye contact with people now because I subconsciously feel that they are an attractive attribute. It’s kind of what I imagine a girl feels like when she gets a boob job and is wearing a low cut shirt that shows her cleavage. She knows it’s there, she knows it looks good, and isn’t shy to show them off.
Weird example but you get the idea.
Anyway, last night was Halloween. Tons of parties all over the city and it just so happens that one of my roommates is this Israeli guy who has a weekly line at the Williamsburg Hotel.
Williamsburg is like the new cool trendy area of Brooklyn that is rapidly gentrifying. And this hotel is super trendy. My roommate has the Saturday night line and ALWAYS invites me to go. I never do, because I’m usually doing gay Jewish shit with my friends. But last night I wanted to go to one of his parties because this guy is like almost 40 years old and still rages every week. He’s always bringing home smokeshows that awkwardly rush out of the apartment in the late morning.
I had gotten a 3 day pass to Equinox in Soho, so after my first yoga session in years I went home, slammed some grass fed beef and eggs and laid down to rest while I waited for the rest of my roommates to get ready for the party.
My friend Billy was MIA most of the day, but at around 8 PM he invited me to a house party that was a bday party for some chick. I had my heart set on going to this event in Brooklyn, but we reasoned that we could always go after.
Turns out the bday party was kind of wack. There were a few cute girls there, but as I should have known it was just more of the same Jewish people that I see when I go out with Billy. After last weekend’s fiasco at the non-costume costume party, I’ve pretty much over actual “parties” that are full of Jewish people. That shit is boring. Where my goyim at?
Still, I managed to find a few interesting people there to talk to. I’m trying to seed a boozy brunch this week with a bunch of hot girls so we can get in for free. Part of the social circle building thing. But as I mentioned before, seeding non-Jewish events at a Jewish event is not so easy. Fortunately I found a few 21 year olds who still have a zest for life, so we set something tentative up for Sunday where we’re going to do a boozy brunch and then hit a few vintage clothing stores afterwards. Will it happen? I don’t know. But I’m practicing, which is the important thing.
Actually, the important thing is that I’m getting out of my fucking house every night and talking to random people. You have no idea how good it feels to have an absence of fear when it comes to speaking to new people. Unreal.
Anyway, we ended up getting stuck at this bday party for way too long. My friend Billy, bless his golden heart, is nothing if not completely oblivious to the passage of time. I don’t know if the kid just has the patience of a saint or if he’s so impossible to overstimulate that he just doesn’t realize that we’ve been at the same boring party for way too long.
We’re always among the last to leave. Which isn’t such a bad deal in and of itself, but when it’s Halloween night and there are literally thousands of better places we could be… come on bro.
After that, a bunch of us ended up going to this place called Public Hotel. I was told it was a nice place and should have been a cool party. It was… okay. But nothing special.
After going through SCBP 2.0, I’ve realized that if you’re going to go out, you need to go to the best venues that you can get into. Why waste your time at shitty bars and sub par parties? Seriously? You’re doing all this fucking work to get dressed, pick the right fur coat, put in your colored contacts, work up the nerve to talk to dozens of new people per night (while staying completely sober, by the way), so you might as well go to a high end venue, right?
It’s much more exciting, the girls are hotter and the other guys there are presumably higher status as well, or at least have enough money to buy a table.
But no, we decided to go to this place because a friend of Billy’s knows one of the guys at the door. Some Israeli guy. Cool and everything, but just not what I was looking for.
The interesting thing as well is that the more I go out, the more I realize how people don’t actually talk to each other when they go out. Meaning that they only talk to the people they went out with, aka their friends. Unless maybe they drink a bunch of alcohol and then get up the courage to talk to new people.
Even when I was much more socially retarded (like two weeks ago), I knew that I didn’t want to go out to hang out with the people that I went out with. I wanted to go out to meet new people. I can fucking hang out with these people literally anywhere, so why would I go to a loud venue with overpriced drinks in the middle of the night? I don’t give a shit about that. Let’s chill and play video games.
Nah, the whole point of this is to level up in life. My friend Billy has a quote from his promoting days: “The celebs bring the models, and the models bring the guys who buy the bottles.”
Something like that. I dunno I think he has a cooler way of phrasing it but you get the idea.
But my friends, as cool as they are, and as popular as they are within their own social groups, surprise the shit out of me by just hanging out with each other when they go out. It’s like.. isn’t the point to talk to other people?
Anyway, I’m rapidly crushing my approach anxiety every night just by doing the 50 open drill. I’ve gotten much better at it as well. I don’t think I did the full 50 last night, but believe me that by the time you get to 20 it doesn’t even matter anymore. You’re just so used to saying whatever dumb shit pops into your head that by the time ten minutes goes by you’re completely out of your own head. In a good way.
One thing that helps as well is opening guys. Last night I had it easy because everyone was wearing a costume. So it was easy enough to say, “bro, your costume is fucking awesome!” High five, bro handshake, done.
Black people are actually the best at this. It kind of reminds me of the phenomenon in Australia, where Arab Muslims are so used to people pre-judging them and hating them right off the bat, that if you’re a normal white person who is nice to them for no reason, they love you right away. I noticed that it’s kind of the same with black guys.
Anyway, this 50 open drill is actually fucking genius. For one thing, it makes you seem like you actually know all of these people that you’re talking to. So right off the bat you get the social proof of knowing lots of people.
Second, sometimes you actually meet interesting people. Or people who introduce you to people.
For instance, there were these two guys who I had opened earlier in the night. I was wandering around and re-opened them. One of the guys wandered off and the other one started talking to this short black girl. I wanted to boost the guy up a bit, so I said, “THIS GUY is the man right here, he’s the fucking MAN!”
The level of conversation that goes on in clubs is literally borderline retarded. But it works.
Anyway, the guy said something to the girl and kind of pushed her towards me, and then all of a sudden she and I were talking. She starts doing some kind of little booty dance in front of me and I made a comment about her ass. So she goes, “I’m black, I have an ass.”
I go, “You’re black? I didn’t even notice!” Obviously joking.
Then I go, “What are you doing after this?”
She’s like, “I’m fucking you at the end of the night.”
I wasn’t sure that I heard her correctly. Who the fuck says that?
I tried to play it off and be cool like girls say that shit to me all the time. I go, “Okay cool, sounds good! Are you wearing underwear?”
She goes, “Nope!”
I mean… I had to find out if this was true or not, so I go, “Let me check,” and reached my arm around, slid my hand inside her pants and sure enough, she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Honestly there was a lot of ass there and I wasn’t sure what part of it I was feeling. No lie.
She didn’t pull my hand away or seem like she particularly cared though, so I guess I was in the clear.
I asked her, “Where are you guys going after this?”
She goes, “1OAK.”
1OAK is one of the hottest clubs in NY right now. Very upscale, lots of celeb sightings, expensive cunty place. Exactly where I wanted to go.
I go, “Wow! Fancy fancy.” I brushed some imaginary dust off her shoulder.
Then she’s like, “You should come. You can sit at my table!”
I’m thinking damn, this just keeps getting better and better.
“Okay, cool. What’s the best way to keep in touch?”
She put her Instagram in my phone and told me to DM her. I made a comment about having a problem getting in through the door, but then she said the most perfect thing that she could have said to me at that moment.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m a promoter.”
Music to my ears. A cute girl promoter who likes white guys with blue eyes. Great connection to have as I undergo my Fuckboy 101 lessons.
Despite the venue not being my first choice, I still managed to have a good time. And this is with absolutely 0 alcoholic beverages the entire night. No need, no desire.
Of course, I wasn’t completely sober. I take 1g of phenibut a day, had microdosed 10 mcg of LSD and taken a pharmacy’s worth of other pills and supplements. But alcohol? Fuck that shit.
My friends, meanwhile, also seemed to be having a good time despite not making the rounds. A few people trickled in who they knew in addition to the 6 or so people we’d come with, so they had a nice little group there. I ended up randomly meeting two hot Israeli girls who I introduced to the group and ended up hanging out with us while we were there. One of them was super into me and I should have pulled the trigger and made a move. She was totally down.
It’s crazy how if you make it seem like you have even the tiniest bit of confidence, your perceived value goes through the fucking roof. I had this girl eating out of my hand. It would have been so simple for me to be like, “come take a walk with me,” or “let’s go get some pizza.” Or literally anything to pull her out of the club and take her to my apartment.
Oh well. Baby steps.
One other interesting thing that I experimented with last night was using social media to open people and get their contact information. Last night it was especially easy because everyone was wearing a costume, so taking a picture seemed plausible. But on another night it’s basically the same thing.
Talking to people = weird looks
Taking their picture = totally normal
Strange, but that’s what happened.
Anyway… after begging Billy to get his shit together so we could leave for almost an hour, we ended up going to a bar down the street. It was pretty dead and I have literally no idea why we went there. Billy had met up with a girl he’d hooked up with previously and I guess they wanted to go somewhere quieter to talk. I didn’t feel like taking the subway all the way to the Meatpacking District to go to 1OAK. If that girl didn’t answer her DM I would have been fucked anyway. Figuratively.
I ended up going home at around 2:30, early for Halloween but with no desire to continue the night. I got what I needed, which was to shake off some more of the rust that’s been accumulating around my social gears for god knows how long. I can only imagine what my life will look like once I nail these concepts down.
- Go to high end venues
- Talk to everyone
- Meet the cool people
- Make shit happen
I was talking with one of the guys who we went out with that night, let’s call him Amos. This guy is tall, very good looking, charming and makes a shitload of money. Super confident and a total player, Israeli guy.
Last week we were at another party and he was complaining. Wait, did I tell this story before? I don’t remember. Anyway, he said that in soccer, when you play with scrubs, you play like a scrub. But when you play with people who are fucking good and challenge you to step it up, you’re gonna step it up.
The reason he brought that up is that we were sitting at some party full of… scrubs. And he wasn’t feeling the proper motivation to bring out his A-game. Whether or not this was just a rationalization on his part is debatable, but after going out this past week I believe it. And it’s just true in general for other things as well.
Anyway, to keep it microdosing-related, I took 20 mcg today and I think this might be my new daily dose. It could be because of my night last night, but I feel good about everything. It’s almost like I’m waiting for tonight when I can go out and do it all again. I think I might need an actual job or something where I can talk to people.
I’ve even considered going and selling hair straighteners somewhere exotic for a few months just to work on my game. This time, I actually wouldn’t be doing it for the money. But would I be able to go out every night? Probably not. I dunno, I’ll think about it. I’m not broke yet.
Anyway, I definitely need to get some more social activity in my life. Part of the program is scheduling out venues for yourself 7 days a week so that you never have to wonder where you’re going to go or what you’re going to do on any given day or night. So if today’s Thursday during the day, I would know that if I want to be social I can go to… fuck, I don’t even know.
Alright, I’m over writing this. Go buy a fur coat. Thank me later.