Open Letter to a Reader

“Hey! You’re Roosh V! I read your blog. It changed my life! Oh and you must be Roissy!”

You weren’t just excited to meet these guys. You had fire in your eyes. Your enthusiasm poured forth, showing your strong desire to learn game and get some bitches. How long ago was this? Hmmm. That night you looked at me and said:

“Hey you must be VK!”

“Nah, that’s not me.”

I hadn’t even met VK yet, I don’t think. So it was more than a year. Fast forward to the present. You see us again. And are excited. But you’ve changed. That fire, which I thought would develop into a raging inferno, gulping up vast acres of evergreens, wasn’t as I expected. I thought I had good reason to believe it: you were tall, dressed decent, weren’t skinny, and looked pretty good. But now, that fire looks more like a small flame in an artificial fire place. Cool to look at, but not much else.

You seemed completely changed. You had on a full sweat suit, a white undershirt, looked sloppy, and unmotivated. Sure you were out at the bar, but all of the sudden you were just another guy. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the guy wearing the red cape, your sweat suit would have been the hot topic.

Designer labels don't make it better.

What happened to you, man? I tried to get an idea of what’s been going on the past year. You mentioned something about a long term relationship, and she left you or something. I could be wrong. But what I heard was loud and clear: you weren’t doing much to improve. Stagnant at best, regressing at worst.

I tried to talk you in to approaching something. Anything. I know the place was slim pickings. No dimes. At best an 8. But you still gotta approach the best girls there. I told you that hey, you’re in the presence of guys you read about. It was the perfect opportunity: do an approach, ask them to observe, get feedback. I’m not saying they would have said yes, but why not at least try?

I know it’s tough. My first year was horrible. I had serious doubts. The winter months were unforgiving. We are in the same city, facing the same circumstances.

For the love of God, approach some bitches. You aren’t getting younger. You need to approach now. Get in the battle. There are no Medals for Courageous Restraint in game. You gotta get shot at, shot down, and shoot back. Pull that trigger and unleash the beast on these bitches. Sympathy sex only happens in the movies. Sure, a year isn’t really a long time, but people who don’t work hard and see improvement eventually give up. They turn into this guy.

I could be wrong. Maybe I’m way off base. I doubt it. Maybe you are motivated differently. I guess. But what’s better motivator than saying “hey guys, I love your blog, now see what I can do”? Only you know what works for you. Talking to that cabbie motivated me. Sitting in my room, alone, motivated me. Getting fed up with not getting what I want motivated me. The joys of sex motivated me. What motivates you?

Do what you need to do to get back in it. Ditch your friends if you have to. Live up to your potential.

Don't let this guy beat you.