Game · Serbia

Low T, Belgrade and Mussolini

Watching Krauser doing daygame is like watching Maradona playing football. He has a very good vibe these days, and his passion for pickup seems having come back. I see him performing spectacular sets. I witness one in which he did an actual pirouette in front of a girl before opening. One year ago, when I first met him, he wasn’t doing any daygame and seemed out of energy and with bad vibe. I had tought “maybe he’s done with it”. It looks like he’s not.

It’s 11pm and he is patroling the pedestrian in the center of Belgrade going up and down, pivoting on the heels of his boots, scanning the street for sets and snapping his fingers to keep the rythm. As he sees a hot tottie, he’ll approach. Girls seem to appreciate it. They are all very young, very hot, very tight. Nick has a radar for recognizing hotter-younger-tighter from half kilometer of distance. The best set is with a young girl who is probably 19 and a full 9: the set finishes with her giving him her number and a high-five: “you should continue doing this, because you are very good at it!” she’d say. That’s top-level game.

Still, it seems not easy getting Belgrade chicks out on dates. Even for Krauser. “Nick, don’t you think that a girl may find you charming, interesting and ballsy but still she’s not willing to fuck you because she’s 4 points above you in terms of hotness, tightness and youth?” I ask. “If she’s genuinely attracted she will fuck you, no matter the age.” Yes but… “The problem is all in your mind” he insists.

Nick says I wander carrying an imaginary rucksack – my mind. He told me the same one year ago when first I met him. Maybe it’s just a feature of myself – which for sure doesn’t work with Serbian girls. Serbian girls apparently don’t think. They act completely on impulses and if you are not super macho, super good-looking and super cool (which means top-level game), they won’t give you the time of the day. But it’s true, I’m in my head, because the girl I closed yesterday and who seemed to like me didn’t reply to my message; another one who seemed to like me blocked me on whatsapp five minutes after the set; another one who has agreed on a date for tomorrow I have the feeling would flake (she will).

Days are sticky hot and humid here, and I keep feeling dehydrated. I’m traveling too much, sleeping too little, and keeping a gym routine which I should probably stop. I feel tired and always thirsty. I drink a lot of water and have to go to pee all the time while daygaming. Me and RoyWalker,” says Nick “checked our Testosterone level in a small clinic down there yesterday. We both found out we have it very high. Why don’t you check yours?” No thanks. The fact that probably my T level will result under good levels won’t help my vibe and self esteem. I prefer to believe I’m just dehydrated.

In his past trips RoyWalker has gotten laid a lot in this city, but apparently he is struggling now. He’s also mad at Krauser because Nick stole him some set. I guess there’s no honor among thieves. Is Krauser the master and Roy the pupil who one day will be his heir in the Daygame Hall of Fame? This is my literary impression, but I think the reality is more mundane: we all are people who just want to fully live the player lifestyle, dreaming of retiring, one day, in a house with a lawn, a dog, and a Slavic wife 20, perhaps 30 years younger than us. “Why don’t you also coach, Roy?” I ask. “Because I want all the pussy for me”. Great answer.

I like Belgrade and I like Serbian people but the truth is that “it’s brutal here”. This is what Bodi once told me. “Because the city has been spoiled by the morons of the bootcamps who invaded it for years.” Fortunately this year I’m not seeing many of them, I assume they moved where the grass is greener.

More simply, Belgrade is not my city. Serbians have too much Turkish blood. I don’t click with Turkish stuff. I’m a man from southern Europe who needs cold temperatures, milky-white skin and super-bright eyes to feel special – and horny. I need girls who, like me, are always in their minds. Russian, Ukranian, Polish. With these women I click instantaneously. They know what I’m after. “You seem to think all the time, such as me” a very hot Ukrainian girl whom I ended up banging once told me. A Serbian girl would never say me something like that, and for sure she’d never reward me with sex for such a feature. 

I had planned to go to Poland for some days to bang my new 35yo regular, but Krauser made me change my mind: “30 years old girls’ skin smell like kitchen” he says. That’s funny but has some truth in it. “But a notch is a notch” he adds to console me. I’ve never been a notch count guy. I used to be a guy who aimed to quality and not to quantity, but in the last 18 months the youngest girl I banged was 28. Have I started the decline? If it is so, I won’t accept it and will fight. I must get my shit together. So next morning I wake up and decide I will skip Poland: I won’t bang my 35yo regular anymore. I book a flight home instead. I will take a rest for one week and then go to my next destination up in the north of Europe.

It’s now my last night in town. Me, Krauser, RoyWalker and another daygamer are having a drink. It’s almost 1am and Nick, after having entertained us with hylarious stories of pickup-industry crazyness, begins talking about World War II. He knows a lot about it. That’s interesting, but my eyes start closing. I’m tired and also have a flight at 7am. I hear mentioning Russia, Germany, Hitler, Stalin and Mussolini. “What do you think about Mussolini, Vic?” he asks me. I suddenly wake up from my torpor. Of course I think Mussolini was a crook and a clown, like every man who has a grain of brain thinks. But I don’t wanna sell out my country so easily, so I mutter something like: “Hitler copied a lot from him.” Nick doesn’t comment.

I go home, and at 4am I take a taxi to the airport. At 7am I take off. I sleep during the whole flight. I have strange dreams: I dream about street approaches in the pedestrian of Belgrade. About Serbian girls rejecting me. And about Mussolini getting a high-five from a Belgrade tottie.


3 thoughts on “Low T, Belgrade and Mussolini

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