Author: Jimmy Jambone

A cheeky little monkey. Everybody loves Jimmy and his opinions.

Back to the drawing board

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.

  1. Accept the deal I have and move forward making the best of it. A bird in the hand.
  2. 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.

J and K Belgrade 2050

‘You’re moving your hands too much when you talk Jimmy, that’s your problem right there’

16 polite chats, boyfriend excuse, bad English etc.

4 numbers.

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.

Why I love to fail

When I was a kid (10 years old) we used to go into the woods and knock down trees. We’d topple them into the ravines. The police would come and we’d have to run. I would never get involved too closely because I was scared of getting caught. So I’d stand by on the sidelines and safely watch. I never toppled a tree, so I was never considered one of the top lads.

When I was in my early teens a few mates started boxing. I’d go to the gym with them and I’d train and sometimes spar, but I was always worried about getting hurt, so I’d mostly stand by the side and just watch. I was never considered at that top table either.

When I was in my late teens I hung around with bona fide football hooligans, but I was always worried about being arrested and getting hurt, so I never put myself in a position where I ever got into any genuine action. So I was never considered anywhere close to being one of those lads.

You want to play in a band? Well if you want the real glory, you’re going to have to sing in front of crowds of people or play note perfect lead guitar. Both require you to hold centre stage for long periods and if you ever fuck up, everyone sees it. I played rhythm guitar and bass and after a while, I did backing vocals.

For whatever reason, I was always enough well liked; I was always the fun guy who was on the fringes of all the cool people. But if you want a real place with the boys, you have to put your balls on the line. You’ve got to get comfortable with risk. If you want to be one of the lads, you have to be willing to take the pain that comes with it.

If that pain is a smack on the nose in the gym then you have to be willing to bear it. You might lose some teeth or gain a few scars. If you want to be one of the boys, you have to have balls; you have to risk something, somewhere at some point in your life.

I know some very tough men back in Lancashire, jailbirds some of them, who wouldn’t do a street stop in front of their mates. They’d be terrified of the ridicule if it went wrong. They’d be terrified of the girl being offended.

This is what I tell people when they have AA. The discomfort and the grind of day-game is your chance to win a seat at the table and be considered one of the boys. Glory awaits. It’s the easiest safest way to rightfully claim your place as a man of risk and action. You can either get a smack in the nose in the gym, get a criminal record… or do a few opens. It’s your choice.

And you’ll fail too. Many times.

This morning a tweet got my attention. @daygamerules said:

Here’s why I think day-game drop-out rates are high. Guys can’t self analyze what they’re doing wrong and coaches mislead the public by not talking about how common flaking is.   

Well, not everyone and not all coaches. The idea of the 1/30 ratio has been passed around quite a bit now and that in itself is an open admission that 29 times out of 30 you’re going to fail. But failure is good because as we have said, if there were no failure, there’d be no risk and therefore no glory.

I’ve been coaching game now for well over ten years and plenty of lads who come to me tell me exactly how good their game is and exactly where and why they need coaching. My standard example in this circumstance is someone who says: ‘my game is great Jimmy, but my text game lets me down’.

Then I see them in set and I see there’s just not that much game going on really. There’s a street stop and there’s words being exchanged. Maybe even a comparison to an animal. On the whole it’s usually just a guy doing the following:

1 – Stops a girl and says something along the lines of ‘I like you’.

2 – Stacks with some game standard.

3 – The girl will ask where they’re from and they’ll almost always ask the girl to guess. This usually then goes on for ages as the girl gets increasingly stressed.

3 – The student will then ask ‘so what are you doing today, are you out shopping?’

4 – The girl gets bores, says she has to go so they student says I think you’re cool, let’s go for a coffee some other time.

He gets a number occasionally but they never want to meet him, so he assumes it’s his text game that’s letting him down.

So my starting point with any client is not to teach him any particular method. There exists a method. There exists a best practice, but I don’t necessarily want to go in all guns blazing with my aim being to teach ‘XYZ’ method, when I don’t even know what his issue is.

My next client could be perfectly competent with women. It’s quite possible my next client is a charming guy who needs only to stand up straight and smile a bit more? I don’t want to overcomplicate anything unnecessarily, so I first just want to see who he is and what might need improvement.

Depending on the format of the coaching package, I may find myself limited in what I can do with the time I have. I may have to just pick the biggest hole and fix it. There’s guys I have spent a day just getting them to talk more slowly and less high pitched. That’s all we did, because without fixing that hole, it wouldn’t matter how cocky-funny I made him or how much I showed him how to sexualise the set; it would be a waste of time while he was squeaking at them like Mickey Mouse.

If I am then questioned for my reasons, if I am asked why he needs to make any of my suggested improvements, then I have the method and the science to refer to, the rational framework supporting the theory that explains my advice and why certain things work and then over a decade of experience in game to draw on for examples.

The main reason I read origin story emails and lengthy dissections of where and why a potential client rates his game is because I am trying to get a feeling of his overall vibe and personality. Are they upbeat, are they light hearted, are they fearful, are they entitled, are they bitter?

That’s the only real reason I need their opinion. They think they’re updating me on where they are with their game, but neither they, nor I, are the ones who judge how good their game is.

I want to see them in 3 – 5 sets, left to their own devices, forgetting I am there, and I want to see what the girls think of them. I want to see them fall short. I want to see them fail. I want to see their in-set reasons for failure (superficial technical sticking points) and see their reaction to that failure (underlying inner game).

Only when I see this, is it time for me to get to work.

You see failure is a tool to be embraced. Often a client will say:

Oh Jimmy, this is the worst thing that could have happened! I’m having a terrible day! You’re not seeing me at my best. 

I don’t want to see you at your best. Why do I care about that? I need to see where you’re fucking up and making mistakes. What’s the benefit of me seeing you at your best?

Explaining how to embrace, enjoy and leverage wins and learning points from failures is my starting point with many clients. I tell them, you’d better make friends with failure, because your reward for years of failure and learning game is a meagre 1/30 success rate if you’re lucky.