I Went To Paris To Visit A Girl And She Gave Me The Cold Shoulder

Most men are somewhere in between “alpha” and “beta” behavior, depending on context. Since romantic betatude is generally detrimental for attracting women, a man would have to change his inner state of being if those inclinations ever happen to take a stronghold over him. This happened to me a number of years ago, and I will explain how I quickly decided to change my ways and steer them towards more fertile soil.

A great year with a disillusioned hopeful ending

2009 was a great year. I had an attractive Swedish girlfriend – who happened to be a neurotic and histrionic energy thief, but that is another story – and when we broke up I went to Japan and experienced a fair share of Oriental experiences. Back in Sweden later that year I continued the streak and had additional success.

While in Busan in South Korea the same year, I had met a super-cute 75% European and 25% East Asian girl whom I had not slept with but was having somewhat regular contact with through Facebook. Hereafter I will call her Apolline.

I insisted on seeing her in Paris, partly to see Paris which I had not visited since childhood, and partly to meet her and hopefully seal the deal in the city of Muslims love. Apolline occasionally waited a good while with responding, but after I had quite explicitly hinted at my non-Platonic intentions she was sanguine to see me the next year in spring. She even stressed that I could stay at her place and looked forward to receive me as a guest.

Of course I would not let my romantic inclinations penetrate my entire existence, but I’d be lying by saying that I didn’t think of her every now and then. After all, the goddess of destiny had decided to make our paths cross at the other side of the globe so why wouldn’t it be rightful to think of Apolline as my earthly goddess of love? All of the other hoes were just fleeting pleasures after all.

These tendencies became magnified because I didn’t have any sex at all for several months, even though my spring diet went really well and I looked good. I had talked to other people in my social circle – including girls – who were insistent on the idea that she was clearly into me and that our upcoming encounter unhesitatingly would result in mutual sparkling flames. C’est justement le cas, je me suis trompé. Well, it just so happens, I was mistaken.

The romantic illusion evaporates

When we eventually met in Paris, things started off positive, but when Apolline made it clear that she was staying at a male “friend’s” place while I borrowed her centrally located apartment that belonged to her friend’s grandmother, I understood where things were going. Or perhaps rather what had been going on while I was creating romantic fantasy stories inside my hermit head. We spent some pleasant time together and experienced a number of beautiful sites in the French capital, but there was no kissing.

The next evening we met some of her female friends at a dubstep club. One of them asked me why I had come to Paris, and I responded that I had come to see Apolline, which was at least 50% of the truth. My point was actually that she was a reason why I wanted to visit, but the way I conveyed the message was maybe a bit brief and unclear.

Anyway, this led to the female friend walking straight up to Apolline and gossiping about my response. As a consequence, I was a bit ashamed and butthurt when Apolline not long after asked me about my misguided travel reasons, but I managed to downplay it to some extent. I said: “I came to see Paris but it is good to see you too, and that you’re letting me borrow the apartment. That was what I meant”. She seemed to believe me, at least in part, but I left early, then sauntered around the streets of Paris with a doleful look on my Nordic face.

Alpha fucks, beta sucks

When I arrived at the apartment, two French girls were standing just outside the gate, which was located not far from a bar/club on the opposite side of the steet. We started chatting and it didn’t take long before I regained some of my inner strength, and simultaneously forgot about the quarter-Asian dame. To be honest, the girls were kind of average, around a 5 and 6, but the positive and flirtatious interaction still managed to ignite the inner flame of game. I met them inside the other place a bit later.

I recall that the bar was full of Muslims and Africans but also a significant number of white expats and locals. I bought a beer or two and increased my well-being, ready to take action at any moment. In the middle of the dance floor I made eye contact with one of the French chicks, whom I had just met and considered to be the most attractive of the two, and started to make out with her not long after.

I left her not many minutes later. Then suddenly an American chick of Italian descent showed up and before I even realized how goddamn pretty she was we were making out. The comparatively much less attractive French girls pseudo-laughed at me as they passed by but could not hide their at least slight exasperation, but there are always some Maghreb male waiting to, literally, fill the gap so they shouldn’t have to mourn long after the loss of the little Scandinavian superman. I took the girl to grandma’s house. Not one second I thought about Apolline.


I am far from flawless and the initial mistake was of course to let the romantic inclinations guide me in the first place, but if we accept the fact that we as individuals are imperfect, especially when the effects from the red pill haven’t become entirely predominant in our minds, the second best option is to quickly redirect our inner compasses towards that of the assertive alpha, away from the romantic beta.

If you want to read more of William Adams’ material, check out his website Syncretic Politics.

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