I was gonna go into detail about another epic night of approaching failure. Thats entirely unnecessary. Ill keep this short and sweet. Last night I made about 5 legitimate screened approaches. Only one of them even nibbled at the line. My game was off. I knew my game was off. I didn’t know why. I tried to pump myself up. It wasn’t happening. I called it a night at about 1 am. When my head hit the pillow I slept like a log for nine straight hours. When I awoke I was still in approach mode. Then the reason my game was off hit me like a ton of bricks. Real easy.
I was fuckin tired.
I can’t wake up at 6 am, have vigorous sex, go to work lifting heavy ass shit for 4 hours, repair a pickup, lift more weights, get primped, drive 120 miles, run errands, check in with friends, and then expect to be top notch player. It ain’t gonna happen. Game takes energy. It takes even more energy if you’re a noob.
Its time to swallow my pride and admit where my game is weak.
1. My logistics suck balls.
2. I desperately need some coaching.
3. Not drinking alcohol is a major social handicap that I’m not sure how to overcome. People think I’m cool until they try to shove booze down my throat, then its obvious they label me a square.
4. Im drowning in a sea of blue pills. Here, Ill give you a list of all my red-pill friends. 1. Me.
5. The sex ratio where I live is roughly 3 to 1 judging from casual observation.
All this leads to a very simple solution. I gotta go. Ive been working on my exit plan for about the last month. I’ll keep you good gents posted. Oh, and remember to get your Z’s before a round of night game.