I was sitting in a bar in Brooklyn’s Brooklyn Heights neighborhood. Next to me was a good friend who I originally met in a Rio de Janeiro hostel on my first week there. By pure coincidence he also ended up being from New York. He immediately became a close friend and a loyal partner in crime as we pillaged the streets of Rio de Janeiro in search of love and adventure.
While it’s been a while since we saw each other, he seemed to have comfortably adapted back to his former life. After returning to America, he quickly acclimated to his former environment. His American game was also sharp, after I noticed him effortlessly chatting up a girl at the bar just minutes before.
We ordered more beers.
“My man, it’s been a long time. It’s great to see you again,” he smiled.
“It sure has been a while. Great to see you as well, man.”
“So, what have you been up to?”
“I’ve been colonizing Europe one woman at a time. Just spent two years there living in various countries. Having an absolute blast.”
“So, what are European women like?”
“Very different from American women,” I paused, trying to come up with the right words.
“They’re more interesting, more sophisticated, more polished.”
Polished. Now that’s a proper adjective.
“Interesting,” he replied.
“Yeah, I really like Europe. It seems to fit my personality perfectly. It’s different from Latin America in many ways, it’s a bit hard to explain.”
“How? In what ways are the women there different from American?” As a serial seducer, his barometer for a culture always started out with its women.
“It’s a complicated question.” I paused. I spent lots and lots of time pondering about this and now needed to synthesize all this information and come up with the right answer.
“The fundamental difference between American and foreign women is that American women aren’t interested in you as you; they see you an object that can do something for them. They see you as a sexless commodity, an image, a gateway, a stepping stone to something else, something bigger.”
“But, in, let’s say, Eastern Europe a woman sees you as a man. A confident, testosterone-laden man who’s ready to conquer the world. That’s enough for her. The buck stops there. She doesn’t need anything beyond the mass of bones and muscles that’s in front of her.”
He listened patiently.
“Remember how it was in Brazil where we could easily tell if a woman was interested or not? Brazilian women didn’t mess around. She was either into you or not.”
“Yeah, that’s what I really loved that about Brazilian women. No bullshit. No wasting time. Just straight down to business.”
“Yeah, it’s like that in Europe. Maybe not as intense, but the underlying game is very similar.”
“Think about this. Think about how American game is built around conversation, endless conversation about all kinds of random topics, most topics that are completely pointless and never lead to anywhere, with the hope that eventually the girl will become into you—that is if nothing else catches her attention in the meantime.”
“Hmm, yeah, I never thought about it, but I can see that. I just never compared the two sides like this,” he smiled, looking amazed.
“Well, I did spend a lot of time thinking about this. And after lots of traveling and lots of talking to different women from different countries, things slowly began to come together. It’s like my brain was gradually piecing together a massive jigsaw puzzle.”
“So, in Brazil, you don’t talk for hours and hours. You approach, and within five or ten minutes you can usually tell if the girl is into you. If you’re that clueless, she’ll make it obvious by leaving. And if she’s not into you, no amount of conversation can change that: she’s just not feeling you.”
“However, in America, the cornerstone of game is endless talking. I’ve been in situations where a cute girl wasn’t initially interested, but after lots of bantering, she slowly turned 180 degrees and we ended up going home together.”
“Haha, yeah, that has happened to me on more than one occasion,” he exclaimed, grinning ear to ear.
“That’s because the American woman doesn’t have enough emotional intelligence to decide right away if she’s into you or not. She doesn’t consider herself as a woman nor views you as a man. As far as she’s concerned, both of you are fully equal, sexless and genderless beings. Everything that makes her feminine is stripped out; everything that makes you masculine is stripped out. There’s no masculine-feminine polarity. Nevertheless, if throughout the conversation, you can prove that you’re in some way valuable to her, you might trigger some connectors in her reptilian brain into feeling attracted to you. As you can imagine, it’s hardly a seamless process. With foreign women, you don’t need to do all that.”
“With foreign women there’s a strong masculine-feminine polarity, so the woman either sees you as a confident man she wants to fuck and, who, in turn, wants to fuck her, or she doesn’t. It’s all a consequence of culture. They value masculinity much more over there and will therefore reward you highly for wanting to fuck her brains out. Not in America, where…,” and I looked around the hipster bar brimming with feminine men and masculine women to demonstrate my point, “…women don’t value masculinity at all.”
“But since all that gender polarity missing in America, you have to compensate it with endless talking and bullshit, which is really strange because a man should be judged by his actions and not whether he’s able to talk for hours straight about mindless topics. What happened to the strong and silent type? That’s a real man, after all.”
“Man, you’re like some seduction scientist. That’s some interesting stuff,” my friend snickered. “It makes sense, though.”
“I can’t wait to get back to Europe. I’m going crazy here,” I’ve only been back to America for a month, but already couldn’t wait to get the hell out.
“Yeah, I’ll probably make my way over there soon. Just need to get my business off the ground. After that I’m on the next plane out. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again. America is great for business, but severely lacking in pretty much all other departments,” my friend remarked, while looking straight ahead and sipping his beer.
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