“Bros before hoes” is dead. Or maybe it never existed to begin with. In truth, when you and your wingman both abide by certain rules, and have realistic expectations, there is no betrayal or disrespect of your fellow man. You will get laid more, and enjoy going out more too. Here is my twelve-fold path to wingman greatness:
1. Don’t Be A Bitch
The wingman isn’t there to go to the bathroom with you. He’s not there to cradle you in his arms after you down too many Jagerbombs. He isn’t there to approach girls and pass them onto you. The rule isn’t “fags before hags.”
You exist to facilitate your wingman getting laid, and vice versa. If you’re an impediment to getting your wingman laid, you are a failure as a wingman. Sure, he can continue to be friends with you and invite you to his barbecues and go to your bridal shower; but he will have no reason to go out on the town with you. You wouldn’t ask an emaciated girlfriend to help you move your couch, so you shouldn’t expect to wing with a man if you’re not upping his odds of getting ass.
The standard ethics don’t apply. For example, if you pick up a friend to drive somewhere, typically you’d also drop him off on the way back. But if you’re raring to take home a girl you just met at the bar, taking your friend home might mean losing the lay, that night and probably forever. There is no “if we come together we leave together” rule, because that would defeat the whole enterprise of getting laid. This isn’t disrespect or rudeness, it’s mutual sacrifice for a greater cause. It’s honoring and achieving your real, common goal.
Only men who don’t get laid fuss about being ‘ditched.’ If a man is scolding you with ‘bros before hoes,’ it’s because he’s not getting laid and he feels left out.
2. Look Sharp
Even if your wing is stylish and charming, girls are going to judge him by the company he keeps. If you’re sixty pounds overweight or you wear nylon pants to the bar while your wing is svelte and suited up, girls will not only think little of you, but they will also look at your wingman with prejudice. Don’t let your wingman wonder if you’re actually a liability, and look sharp. A debonair wing makes you look good. His appearance does not come at your expense. The reverse holds true too – girls like to assess a man by the company he keeps. So when the girl you’re flirting with sees that your wing is a cool guy too, she takes it as further proof that you are cool.
A few guys are such a force of personality that they can look like fat slobs and still bang hot girls, but they are rare. You are not that guy.
3. Learn To Fly Solo First
There are times when your company is a boon to your wingman, and there are times when it’s not. You have to be ready to walk away from your wingman immediately when you cease to be of help, like when a single girl takes an interest in him. If you’re not comfortable going solo, then you’re going to dote on your wingman and cockblock him, because you’re too pussy to leave his side. You need to be comfortable going solo for hours at a time.
4. Practice Good Rules Of Engagement
He who opens a group of girls gets to choose. If the girls express interest otherwise, switch girls. If your girl sucks, don’t go and bear down on your wing and his girl – if your buddy is doing well, try and occupy your girl. It’s up to you and him how long you have to run interference – if you find yourself jumping on the grenade so much you’re getting fewer results, ease up and let him pick up the slack.
I once approached two Russian girls. One turned out to be bitchy, so I opted for the nice one. I brought an Australian guy along that night, and he swooped in and initially tried for the bitchy one. He quickly made the same discovery I did. Instead of plowing through or walking off, he came over to me and the girl I had, and cockblocked me into oblivion.
When your wingman does something flagrantly disrespectful, you have to call him out on it, and get his assurance that he will stop. If he continues to do it, he’s simply a prick who won’t change – the only solution is to stop being his wingman. I called out the Australian on his cockblocking – after he did that once or twice more, I simply stopped going out with him.
If at any time you break a rule, you make it up to him. E.g., buy his next drink or pay for his valet – ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it. Be generous and always get him back – like when your wing gives you a ride, you volunteer to pay for his parking. Don’t wait for him to call you a cheap fuck. Otherwise, you may find him avoiding you while you have no idea why.
5. You’re In The Taliban Now – Act Like It
When your wingman is talking to a single girl, there is no reason to engage him. Or her. Imagine you are in Taliban-controlled Afghanistan, and that talking to your wingman’s girl will get you stoned at the next village carnival. Half of seduction is isolation – interrupt that, and you may blow the whole effort. She may start sizing you up in relation to your wingman, and decide that you’re both comparable and therefore both unexceptional and not worthy of sex with her.
6. Don’t Be A Pussy-Pincher
Every night in every bar in America, there is the same pattern of men cockblocking each other: two or three men are talking to one woman. This happens because they are too cowardly to part; and no one wants to ‘lose’ her. In reality, none of them will get her, because they’re cockblocking each other continuously, preventing any one of them from getting alone with her to seduce her. I see this one constantly, and it never ceases to amaze me how clueless guys can be. The more you cling to the pussy, the less you’ll have of it.
If you and your wingman find yourself in this situation, one of you must walk. Better that the one she’s more keen on stays. If she hasn’t made a clear choice, you can use some tiebreaker where in the event of a tie, you get say, the tall or white girls, and he gets the short or non-white girls.
7. Avoid Zero Sum Thinking
If you’ve ever been in business with the peoples of the world, you’ve gotten to experience ‘zero-sum thinking’ first-hand. These are the men who think they can only win by making you lose. I’ve seen it myself among Middle Eastern people, and I’m sure it’s common elsewhere. In cultures where such thinking is prevalent, you’ll even hear sales pitches invoking it – “I’m losing money by selling you a Persian rug at this price, khoobi. Please, take it.”
They think that if you’re not in pain, they must be losing, because there must be a winner and a loser in every transaction. They’ll screw everyone short of their first cousin. A lot of men think this way when it comes to women. If you have a zero-sum mentality, you will think your wing’s success comes at your expense, and you will be tempted to undermine him as a result. You will be a terrible wingman.
8. Never Disrespect Your Wing
I had a college buddy who had a nasty habit of making jokes at my expense when we’d go out. If he had made these cracks in the company of male friends, I wouldn’t care. But he would do it explicitly in front of girls as if to say “hey, look how much better I am than Emmanuel!” Trash talk among men has its place. But trash talking your friend is never appropriate when you’re macking random girls.
When you disrespect your friend in front of a girl, you are saying “hey, it’s okay if you disrespect him too.” It’s like a child seeing his own parents insult each other – their attacks on each other just undermine their authority. The whole spectacle sullies everyone. Why should a girl respect your wing when she just saw you trampling all over him? And she isn’t going to bang a man she spent the whole night disrespecting. When you treat your wing like a king, you convey that he must be respected. This also helps him get laid.
As a tactical matter, undermining your wing doesn’t make you more attractive by comparison. Just the opposite. She may think “if he’s such a loser, and you know he’s a loser, why are you still friends with him? Maybe you can’t do better – you must be a loser too.” No matter how rude and petty a girl is, she will see your passive-aggressiveness as a sign that you’re a little bitch, and treat you accordingly. Your jibes just come off as reverse-bragging, which makes you seem insecure.
More masculine men tend to trash talk a lot, and this can be a hard habit to break. Instead, team up with your wingman and tease the girls. Imagine yourself as coaches of a sports team who mold the character of their charges with some gentle verbal hazing.
9. Pimps Up, Hos Down
Young attractive women hold tremendous power to determine what is and isn’t cool. Being labeled ‘creepy’ by a girl in front of an audience is nigh impossible to recover from. It’s all a façade though. If you can make her feel that no one cares what she thinks, she will become unsure of herself, and quit being so prissy.
Considering that you’re reading this site, your views about women and sex are vastly different from that of the typical girl. That’ll make for interesting and contentious conversation. Maybe you baldly state that women always look better with long hair, and she starts clucking in disagreement. As your wing, I’d shoot her a patronizing look and laugh with warm condescension. Even if she doesn’t outright change her mind, she will start to question herself, with her ego bruised. This also makes her easier to seduce.
All that’s needed for women to stop spouting nonsense is for men to stop nodding along. Deny them their license to pronounce judgment, and their power is diminished. She may even hold her tongue in the future.
10. Isolate As Quickly As Possible
The big mixed group dynamic creates a more asexual vibe, while the time spent alone with a girl has the opposite effect. Get into a one-on-one conversation as soon as is convenient, preferably out of the ear-shot of her friend and your wingman. This doesn’t mean going to the other side of the bar – just position yourselves so that conversation with the other girl and your wingman becomes difficult. Maybe your girl has a boyfriend, and her friend will cockblock you if she’s still in the conversation. Distance will keep her at bay.
A lot of extroverted men have a compulsion to be the ‘life of the party’ and attention whore themselves at all costs. They aren’t content to entertain just one girl, even though that’s usually the surest route to sex. Very good looking men with charm can have a similar effect. Unchecked, these men will outshine you again and again – or even just cockblock the two of you. If you keep calling him out on it and he responds that he’s ‘just being social,’ he is a lost cause, and should be abandoned immediately as a wing.
Good wingmen avoid this. Even if you are still right next to your wing and his girl, strive to maintain separate conversations. Both you and your wing need a chance at banging your respective girls, and this can’t happen when you both keep one-upping each other. You need to give each other some distance to give yourselves both a chance.
11. Your Female Friends Are There To Be Enjoyed
Your female friends are going to have sex with someone, and it might as well be your wing. For one reason or another, you aren’t banging her, and you aren’t going to. Let your wing enjoy her. Provided your wing is socially well-adjusted, you should have no qualms with your wingman taking a crack at her. If you try to ‘protect’ a female friend from having sex, it means you have some deeper insecurity. Maybe you think men ‘ruin’ ‘good girls,’ and she’ll suddenly start having casual sex when she had “never done that before.” Let her make the decision, not you.
Defending the ‘chastity’ of an American girl is like trying to swat flies with a hula hoop – it’s just not going to work, the buggers will always get through. And when your wingman sleeps with your friend and gives her the gift of herpes, guaranteed, he will find a way to repay you. Hell, she probably will too.
Personally, I can’t think of a single girl in my history that I would keep a friend from fucking, if I were still talking to her. There’s going to be some reason I’m not getting with her now, so I’d have no problem with my friend having a go at her.
12. Players And Haters Don’t Mix
People who aren’t in the enterprise of banging female strangers just don’t appreciate its inherent difficulties. You may only have one chance to bang that girl you met two nights ago, and that means canceling your plan to get drinks with your buddy. Women are especially critical – after all, there’s no such thing as a man turning down sex because of ‘lost momentum.’ A girl doesn’t have to worry about a man refusing to meet up because he had, say, gone on vacation since they had last met. This is a very real, very common risk for a man going after strange women. Personally, I say it’s okay to break off a minor engagement for a first date with a girl if needed – reschedule and buy your friend a drink or lunch as a token of your apology.
However, this only applies for girls you haven’t banged. If you’re already banging a girl on the regular, there is no such urgency, and you should turn her down and continue with your prior engagement. Ironically, the man who isn’t a player is often far worse; he’ll disappear from his friends just to spend time with his girl who clearly isn’t going anywhere.
“All that’s needed for women to stop spouting nonsense is for men to stop nodding along. Deny them their license to pronounce judgment, and their power is diminished. She may even hold her tongue in the future.”
That’s the truth. When the bullshit starts flowing freely, the ol’ condescending smirk comes in mighty handy.
Great points. It’s very hard to find a good wingman; maybe this article will change that.
I have been a great wingman many times in the past, where i have helped 4 of my guys friends get long-term girlfriends, by telling the girl “(my friend) is a really great guy”. This works really well. However, I have not had this returned to be my my friends or other guys (probably the opportunity never arose, or it never occurred to them to help). Also other guys’ egos get in the way, no matter how much you help them, they do not want to see you succeed.
So, great wingmen are hard to find for most guys. Its best to roll solo and live in a high target area, where you can pick up after the clubs are closing, or pick up during the daytime. This is obviously very difficult, but still doable. Most people meet through social networking; and it is here that the best results come from and most time should be spent. Of course, if your network sucks, it can be significantly difficult to expand it without mass cold-approaching or doing social hobbies where there may be many women, but you are just not that into the hobby. I think as people (younger women) become poorer, the scene will change to one where people are almost exclusively going to date/sleep with other people through their social networks. Being a pua can only thrive when money is plentiful; and now that money is becoming tighter, I can see more social networking leading to relationships/hookups where I live.
“Mathias, there’s nothing under your bed, please just go to bed.”
“But papa, I know I saw something! Lukas saw it too!”
“Mathias Kohler, get to bed this instant and stop being so silly!”
The blonde tried to reason with his father, but his brother, Berwald, grabbed his wrist and began dragging him towards the stairs. Mathias growled and tried to wrench his arm free but he was met with a too stern glare. He stayed with pouting and letting himself be dragged upstairs.
“But I did see something!”
“M’thias, your fourteen. M’nsters ar’n’t real.”
“Hey you’re only 3 years younger than me, don’t get pissy!”
As he was dragged down the hall, his younger brothers, 9 year old Lukas, 6
year old Emil and 8 year old Tino came out of the bathroom, Emil hugging his puffin plushie tightly and Lukas buttoning up his PJ top. Berwald shot Mathias a look. ‘Don’t bring it up.’ Begrudgingly Mathias kept his mouth shut and finally pulled his arm free.
Storming into his room, he briefly heard Tino wish him a goodnight and Lukas and
Emil enter after him. He walked to the other side of the room, plopping down on his bed by the window and flopping down dejectedly. As he heard Lukas getting his little brother into the bed next to him, he leaned over the side of the bed and peeked under.
Apart from a shoe box of attempted wooden carvings, a sketch book and a paint set; the contents remained undisturbed by a lurking creature of the night.
Letting out a questioning ‘hmm’, remaining unconvinced, Mathias sat back up. He came face to face with his little brother, the usual bored look on his face.
Without a word, Lukas stood on his tip toes and in turn Mathias leaned down slightly to let a piece of jewellery be put around his neck, the danish teen laughing lightly at the younger’s antics. “Aw, I’m touched, Lukas! Now I can fit in with the popular girls.” He did a mock duck face and an indie pose, almost making Lukas
crack a smile. He didn’t however, and pointed to the symbol hanging from
the silver chain.
“To keep you safe from the monster.” He explained innocently, turning around
and heading to bed. Mathias smiled a thankful to his back, watching him climb into bed next to Emil and settle down; turning off his bedside lamp.
“Thanks, Lukas. Good night.”
Hours later, on his back, covers only covering his lower half, snoring. Window open slightly, a cool night breeze sliding in and ruffling the curtain to accompany the dull moonlight streaming in. The pendant hung around his neck, resting on his chest.
Two emerald sparks flared by the door, slowly creeping open, and slipping shut with the faintest ‘click’. On the other side of the room, Lukas stirred and turned over, gripping his sheets tight in his fists. Emil whimpered and curled up to his big brother’s back. The sparks travelled in a rush; a rush of black smoke following. A hissing, the equivalent of a comforting hushing dragged through the room.
The children remained silent and doused in the sandman’s spell. A deep,
rich chuckle like melted chocolate followed and a rather loud snort came from the teenager on the other side of the room. He shifted, a cold sweat breaking out as he felt like a heavy weight had suddenly applied pressure to his rib cage.
Constricting him, squeezing and clutching. Dragging out his breaths and making him squirm. Mathias squeezed his eyes shut tight, nails digging into the sheets as his breaths caught in his throat and choked him. A burning light grew behind
his eyes, emerald blazes making a white wave of fear wash over him.
He woke up with a start, lurching up and breathing hard. Sweat clung to
him, and on instinct he reached under his top and gripped the pendent
for dear life, pulling it out and letting it rest on the t-shirt rather then under. He was safe, he was alive…but who was to say there wasn’t a monster under his bed…? Swallowing heavily, he glanced at his two sleeping siblings; making sure they were safe first. He leant over the side; shivering as he felt cold all over until he forced himself to bend over fully.
Staring into the darkness, he narrowed bright blue eyes and waited. It was a few long seconds, before something darted out. First instinct, lift up and let his eyes follow it; locking on it. His face broke into a grin at what he saw. “Gunnar!” The
great dane pup yapped a little greeting, shaking slightly. Mathias assumed from the cold. Hushing the animal, the dane got to his feet and padded over. He walked to the door, smiling when Gunnar brushed his ankle as he followed. Mathias opened the door, frowning when instead of leaving, the puppy took the bottom of his pants in his teeth and pulled.
He sighed and crouched down to pry him off. “Gunnar, we can play tomorrow,
but I gotta go to bed.” He patted the shaking animal on the head and nudged it out the door, closing it behind.
Sighing once more, Mathias stood up, scratching his chest as he slumped back to bed and led back down. A heat over came him as he led his head down on the pillow; nuzzling his head into it. “Monsters.” He snorted, a wiry smile on his face. “What a joke.”
The lights played through the darkness, shining off the window, off the little cross on Lukas’ night stand, and the pendant resting on the 14 year old’s chest, slowly
expanding and contracting with every sleep induced breath. It shone against his eyelids, drawing a murmur and movement from him. Black smoke rose from under the bed, collecting on top. Forming a dark figure in the looming night.
The burning holes of emerald fire told of where the eyes were as the face began to shape. Thick twisted ebony horns, slender face, hooded eyes, a charming smile of pinprick pearly fangs, not as firmly built as most, but a tall lean stature, strong hands and slim fingers (that now stroke slowly up and down the teen’s exposed midriff), slim hips, long coiling tail, firm lower body with calves that squeezed either side of the young blonde’s thighs in a firm hold.
Another soft murmur, squirming beneath the creature. Ice cold fingers crept
under the black top, tracing strong muscles and feeling them twitch under his calloused touch. A soft sigh from the beautiful human, the prey under him. The figure continued to emerge, the wait more and more evident on the boy’s hips until it roused him from his unconscious state.
Groaning lightly, tired eyes fluttered open. One by one, his senses came back. His hearing, his taste, his smell, his sight and finally his touch. All he heard was a low sort of hum, metallic with a tang of smoke, the smell of burning wood and iron, his vision blurred and hazed, most evident was the feeling of cold smooth hands against his chest and an uncomfortable weight on top and squeezing his hips.
Fire.
That’s the first thing he recalled. Burning pits of emerald fire. A dazzling malicious smile, pale sharp features, a long tongue drawing over dry lips. Mathias’ breath hitched as he began to shake under the creature. The monster under the bed was real, but he was no longer lurking there. And it was touching him. Hands, he
felt more then two, in a frenzy. Over his chest, his abdomen, gripping his hips, down his back, tickling his ribs, his collar bones, his throat, his shoulders. He whimpered outloud in fear, and his shaking hand reached for his chest.
Snatching the pendant, he forced himself up on his elbows, holding the pendent from his chest, in the face of the grinning demon above him. The hands all
froze, eyes intent on the symbol. For a moment, Mathias thought he was safe. He was protected. He was going to live.
In a short burst of energy, the silver amulet was yanked from the chain and flung aside with such force the chain snapped and hung broken around the teenager’s
neck. The hands were getting more confident, more intimate, intent on having their way with the young blonde.
Stroking, rubbing, some pinching. Yanking at the shirt, attempting to rip it off, same with the trousers. Mathias thrashed and kicked, trying to fight off what was
holding him down, trying to have it’s sick way with him. His whine was muffled by a thick veil of smoke around his jaw as hands cupped his ass, two more kneading his thigh, trying to spread them open to get better access to his manhood.
Mathias screamed, he kicked, he thrashed, he cried and called to his brother’s, to his father, anyone. Though muffled, the desperate sounds made the two bodies on the other side of the room stir, murmuring and shifting. The demon snarled. He
didn’t want this to end, not yet. He had to think fast, and think fast he did.
All at once, the hands winded Mathias hard. His body, slick with sweat, pushed down into the bed with every one of those once frenzied hands. Pressing down on his rib cage, making it difficult to breath. He arched, kicked down into the bed, squirming and growling and cursing. Lips brushed against his neck, up to his jaw line, until lips brush over his flushed ear as voice like silk purred out; “I could
always go for your brothers, you know.”
Eye widening, Mathias held his breath. A fresh wave of nausea washed over him as his face was turned to that of hell itself. He was lost in those never ending pits
of emerald fire as the voice continued. “You may fight me off, child. You may tell me you want me to leave you. Want me to end this. But I will not leave.” He moved ever so closer, so close that Mathias felt their lips brush and the demon felt a
wetness moisten his own cheeks. “Just tell me,” It purred. “Tell me you want me to leave you alone, and you may sleep in peace tonight.”
Mathias could do nothing as his head was turned to face his sleeping younger
brothers. “Look at them, child. You can see the innocence they have…for now.”
He flinched. “I could spare them, spare their innocence. I am not without mercy. But it comes at a cost for your own.” His heart pounded in his ears, thumping against his ribcage and making his head swim. “What shall it be, child?”
Slowly, oh-so slowly, a short, sharp sob racked Mathias body. The creature grinned a gleaming grin, his eyes trained on the sleeping children as he felt the boy slowly let himself relax back into the bed. Sealing his unclean fate. Closing dilated crystal blue eyes, Mathias let himself relax into the hands of the demon.
The touch was softer now, drinking in the body given to him, the body so willing to trade it’s own purity for others’. “Good boy.” A silent sob racked though the quivering torso, eyes squeezed tightly shut and teeth mashed together as two sets of hands hooked into the waist band of his trousers, another set gripping his rear two more slowly ripping the shirt to remove it, and one hand in his hair and
another stroking his tear stained cheek. Lips brushed over his as the PJ bottoms slowly slid down his legs, fingers taking time to brush down his inner thighs before the original pair of hands slowly and lovingly spread them.
As the monster settled himself between those thighs, a rock hard heat grinding between the cleft of the flush spread cheeks, a face buried in his neck as teeth grazed his skin, Mathias opened his eyes oh-so slowly, and gazed up at the ceiling. He glanced at Lukas and Emil, cuddled up close together in a deep, deep sleep. Another pathetic sob made the creature purr into his neck.
Mathias turned his head, looking to the closed door, knowing that across the hall, his father was fast asleep, as he himself should have been. When the sick creature entered-no, that word was not suitable- invaded,more like, his virgin body. When he bled, and gave out muffled screams and cries and wails of anguish and agony; he knew he had learnt one thing, and one thing only.
There was always a monster hiding under the bed.
This is gospel right here. This should printed out and posted in every 18 year old male’s room. A lotta guys are out for self when it comes to women, ESPECIALLY if they’re pretty. Some guys I used to kick it with used to practice #7 and #8 ALL THE TIME, even if the chicks were basic. I call this selling out. Trying to impress chicks by clowning your homeboy is bad business. If our mission is to be successful with new chicks, what’s the point if we’re talkin shit to each other? We can do that at home and save gas. Why not talk shit to the girls, show em they’re not God’s gift, and make some headway? I’m not saying I need your help, but I sure as hell don’t need your hate. Even in Atlanta, dudes STAY trying to put themselves over instead of helping out their fellow wing. The ratio out here is 19 to 1, women to men, so I’m thinking there’s enough out here for everybody. That’s why I go out dolo most of the time (what up, Roosh!) and that’s when I end up having the most success anyways.
“Trying to impress chicks by clowning your homeboy is bad business.” This is the fucking truth mate ^
Yeah, I’ve *never* seen it help for a guy to mock his friend. At best, she’ll just laugh along, at worst she’ll think you’re both losers.
“I had a college buddy who had a nasty habit of making jokes at my expense when we’d go out” there’s an article about that at the rawness.com, on the site the phenomenon is named “Friendly” Broken Window Theory, it’s an interesting reading, i recommend it especially in relation to the article above; here it is:
http://therawness.com/broken-window-relationship-theory/
The average man is just too insecure to approach many women, suffer many rejections, and still not give a fuck. That’s the biggest problem with finding a wingman.
The next problem is that most of them don’t approach unless they are trashed.
Finally, most men get laid once fall in love for the next few weeks and you never see them again until the girl they were banging stops responding to their calls, so they come crawling back to you saying, “Hey man, what are you doing this weekend?”
If a guy refuses to follow the red-pill way, then let him suffer in his own mediocrity.
You are a fucking constant fount of wisdom. ^
Or, to put it in shorter terms:
Find a guy who has the time and the inclination to be a wingman to begin with. Guys who will do it half-assed are useless.
Even when I was younger, trying to find a guy who had the time and the inclination to JUST HANG OUT was a major chore — so I eventually gave up.
I find the problem with my friend is I’m not interested in getting laid. I have zero interest while I’m in America and my friends can’t seem to rap their little heads around that and as the wingman they keep cockblocking themselves sending girls over to me instead of trying to seduce her themselves.
Grenade jumping is a skill that few possess. And why would it be? Winging and helping somebody get laid does not seem congruent with cultivating the “red pill” dark triad. Then again, when was the last time you saw any American do a selfless act (military semi-excluded)?
The incidence of grenade jumping is greatly exaggerated. I don’t find that I have to do it often. I also don’t see it as a wingman’s responsibility to consistently throw away his night so that his friend can score. That defeats the purpose of having a wingman.
I also shift into 1 on 1 conversations pretty quickly, which probably reduces any need for ‘grenade jumping’ or winning over the friends.
Well done Emmanuel.
It always strikes me as odd how some men approach the skill of being a wingman. Their is no such thing as talent or lack thereof. You are either trained, or you are not. It pains me to see men in bars in the states; it smacks as if Martha Stewart wrote their field guide on how to be a wingman. Perhaps she tells them women get turned on talking about their drapes?
The best way I can wingman for my buddy is by by spiking your value in a inconspicous way. Certain things that would sound like bragging or qualifying when done by you turn in to powerful DHV if mentioned casually by a friend or acquaintance. Of course, it’s most effective when tailored to the individual guy. “Oh, Tim? Yeah he was teaching in France last summer.” or “Yeah, John never talks about it but he’s got all kinds of combat medals from Iraq.” or “If Dave seems a little cold it’s just because he just got out of a bad relationship, the girl he was dating thought she was so great just because she does modelling work for Hollister but she was really clingy so he broke it off.” It’s another tool in the arsenal. Women are obviously impressed by status so one benefit of being male is manipulating their perception of your value. Women paint their face, put on heels, and wear pushup bra’s before going out because they know their value is mostly reducible to physical looks. Don’t hesitate to lay down a little covering fire for your bud if it’s gonna help.
Great point. You can even do it in an over the top way, and girls won’t believe you, but they will still be intrigued. I did this for a small-time director once that I’d just met.
This is one of Emmanuel’s best. Practical, real-world tips, delivered with a sense of humor.
Yeah, my friends arnt good wingmen. We’ve all just turned 18, (it’s legal to drink at 18 in the UK) and I can rarely get them to come for a night out because they’ve all got girlfriends. I tell them to live a little as they’ve got all they’re lives to have a long term relationship, but they just tell me they love their girlfriends haha.
One of my friends saw me getting rejected at a club and offered to teach me his ‘skills with girls’. I told him the only reason you get away with your beta attitude is because your good lookin. He took it as a compliment.
Not even finished with the article by number 8 is sooo fucking true. I’ve had too many friends and colleagues attempt to make jabs at me in the presence of 8s and up as some feeble attempt of laughing their way into the chick’s panties. After enough experiences with these betas, I basically call them out on their bullshit right then and there and it usually backfires in their faces. The problem is that its essentially a matter of them being uncreative, uninteresting and mediocre…
Number 11 would be true if I had female “friends”. But the sentiment still holds true: with the RARE/nigh non-existent exception of that girl that fits the criteria for serious commitment, (and I can’t stress rare enough in America) all girls are fair game no matter what impression they have on you.
One night I was out with my buddy. He had just read The Game and was wearing a blue sequined fedora and of course we all gave him shit for it.
Later on some girl posts up at the bar. She starts making fun of him for his fedora. Who does she think she is to talk to my friend that way?
She was wearing some camo fleece type hoodie.
“What is that made out of fleece?”
“Yeah, it’s camo.”
“Oh, do you hunt?”
“Yeah, all the time.”
“Oh really? So it is hard to find deer in the kitchen?”
That shut her right the fuck up. Of course my buddy got all mad at me after we left, saying how that girl was probably super offended.