I’ve wanted to get round to this post for a while now but I have been too busy the last few months to be able to make it happen and to be honest I have been delaying it as the news I have to share is a bit sad. It’s actually hard to hit this ‘publish’ button because it, in a funny way, makes it official.
Lots I’ve wanted to say to you all this last few months. I love going on Twitter but there’s so much nonsense on there that I could write a post a day responding to some of it. Today I saw these guys who say that hypergamy means your girl might dump you as soon as a lawyer or someone better comes along. What that all about? Girls will leave a soppy cunt if someone better comes along, sure they will. Don’t be a soppy cunt.
I suspect the lads on Twitter who fret about it do so because they don’t have much top lad about them. I can count the girls who left me on one hand.
I’m reminded that I also laughed at the guys who moaned that pickup gets harder after 40. Maybe if you’re not cool, sure. But I’ve no doubt, done right and if you really want to (I don’t), you can crank that wheel well up into your 50s even.
Well now I can put my money where my mouth is.
My news is that I split up with my girlfriend of 5 years. Yes I did. Now, it’s not something I genuinely wanted, or something I celebrate, but it’s something I felt I had to do. I just felt I had to do it. She was great in many, many ways, but she was just far too passive and unreliable. I expect to pull 90% of the weight in the relationship. But I do expect her to pull 10%. JJ couldn’t even book her own flights. I don’t mean pay for them, she had money, she just couldn’t be relied on to organise it.
I didn’t fancy another 40 years of micromanaging a lazy partner. I want kids. What if something happens to me? I need to know the mother will be able to step up. JJ would have sat there and just let the bills pile up until disaster struck. I could never, ever get into a kids situation with her. It would be like starting a band with a one armed drummer. Yes, I know about Def Leppard.
It started to freak me out. I felt I’d got to the final point where I had to make a necessary decision.
- Accept the deal I have and move forward making the best of it. A bird in the hand.
- Replace her while I still can. Risk, at the last moment, I can roll at 6 – or whatever the gambling analogy is.
Despite my confidence that my age won’t hold me back from getting girls (it won’t), it’s still a risk I’ve taken. I’m currently 42. I look 28. I’m still fit, slim, loads of long dark hair, young at heart. I could join a hot band still and nobody would question my age. I can still get, in fact I may even be around my prime for getting, top drawer skirt. In terms of market value, I think I’m somewhere around my apex.
It’s only mathematically I sense my age is now a potential challenge. For marriage and kids I’m edging towards those dilemmas; I’ll be 60 with teenage kids, I need kids in the next five years so I need to find a girl who is up for that. I am not saying I can’t, or that they don’t exist. It’s just that there now exists market shrinking demands. It’s no longer as simple as ‘you want to bang, I want to bang, let’s do it’.
In those terms I’m edging towards a red zone. I don’t have years to waste. I might not even have months to waste.
That’s just the way I see it. I have no doubt, in fact I know, that I can still hit the streets and waltz off with willing young girls, but in terms of settling down – I am in a new pickup dynamic to the one I was previously in.
Like I say, none of this is celebratory. It’s not a case of ‘wahey lads, I can join in again’. The decision I made may well come back to haunt me. But it’s done, and the engines are roaring.
So lots going on. Bottom line, good ol’ Jimmy is back. He’s on the streets and making it happen. And while I am there, I make an interesting case study and it’s a good time to try and share my experiences on some of this. Let some of my younger readers witness, learn and prepare from my mistakes.
So other news is, at the same time as all this, my job went fully remote. Before Corona hit I was told I was free to go as a please. That’s a big game changer too. I can now live and work where I choose. I’m not forced to stay in London any more.
Then Corona hit, and I was forced to stay in London for two months. Then Burnley for another month. Burnley is great, a really nice place if you know it, but without the pubs and football, it’s very quiet. So when I heard Serbia had opened her borders last month, I flew out here and started to defrost my pickup engines.
And that’s what I have been doing this past four weeks. There’s loads more I want to talk about but I don’t want the post to be too convoluted.
I’ve just done 43 sets in one month. That’s about my usual work rate.
16 immediate blow outs. Most in the first two weeks. At which point, I admit, I got a bit worried, but props to my mate Nick from Newcastle who came over and got my spirits back up (probably cause he feared I was about to stink his favourite city up and give day game a bad rep). You could say, he egged me on at the right time.
16 polite chats, boyfriend excuse, bad English etc.
1 lay, but she was 32 so doesn’t count. Actually a bit of an accidental open in a coffee shop in my first week. She was well kept just, 32, you can just see the best years have been spent. She wasn’t on the forecourt anymore, she was on the side-court. It’s not pickup if you’re not shopping on the forecourt. However, a lovely girl, really polite and gentle and she gave me the opportunity to re-run my whole pickup model so, it’s worth a mention.
Girls who do count – I’ve had a couple of dates with a nice young (25) fashion blogger and a date scheduled with a nice young (23) professional athlete, who seems particularly impressed with ol’ Jimmy.
Let’s see where it goes – I’m 0/43 currently but with money on the table.
My goal is to find a girl and settle down, buy a house, get a dog and then have kids, as soon as I can. It’s a different kind of pickup blog over here. It might bore you. No notch chasing, that’s for your 30s. For me it’s all about slowly but surely, filtering for sane girls, a good fit, a good mother. It’s not going to be 3 fucks a week in 3 different cities. I don’t have the time left on the clock to do that. I’m wife hunting. I’m filtering out the crazy.
This old fuckin’ carcass is back on the streets and some of you daft young pretenders might learn a trick or two.