they rule the world of seduction, aiming to evade lonely masturbation as they parade through bars and clubs, nervous nerds peacocking their way to alpha, mocking targets in a bid for numbers and nymphae, sarging sets and placing bets on a full close (fucking that sexy 9 who wouldn’t look at you twice without your magic tricks who’s now sucking your dick because you used Takeaway and Sniper Neg). Fancy acronyms and fat phonebooks aside, all these men playing The Game are the same. Unable to trust in their own personalities, they set out to create Playboy realities in the minds of drunk chicks in bars, telling these 7s and 8s that their fates are written in the stars (’cause chicks dig astrology). All these lines for changing women’s minds are a front for poor socialisation, for a culture where domination is easier to embrace than self-acceptance (you daydream about fewer might-have-beens when it’s just a routine). All these men playing The Game are the same as us. They’re face with a familiar dilemma of desire: they want to be fucked, but they need to be wanted.