My First Major Fail

Before I got into game, I failed majorly with girls. But with each failure, I learned powerful lessons that seared themselves into my memory to this day. This is not to say that my learning experience pre-game was nothing but fails, I had small success too. But I believe I learned more from the fails than I did my successes. I intend to share my failures, so that other men can learn from them too.

This is the story of one such fail.

At the end of eighth grade, I switched schools. I went from military school in the U.S. to an international boarding school in England, south of London. I went from an all guys school to a coeducational school. The beginning of the year was interesting as my head was constantly turning to look at all the girls I was not used to seeing or dealing with, outside of school dances.

In November of that year, I went to my second  high school dance. I don’t remember all of it, but what I do remember was that about half way into the dance, I started dancing with this Turkish girl. We’ll call her Turkish Delight, or Delight for short. As I danced with her more and more I decided that she was really cute. We danced and talked until the formal was over, and I walked her out like the little gentleman I was.

I had a good time, and as I lay in my bed, I was enamored.

I started talking to this girl more and more. She would come to my math class during break and we would talk. Her favorite band was Nirvana and she hated Kurt Cobain. In my creative writing class we started covering poetry so I wrote her a poem about Nirvana which she liked. As we started talking more she asked me, “Who do you like?”

I told her to tell me first. She told me she liked some Dutch guy. I gave her a vague description of her “Brown hair, tan, danced with me at the last dance”. She seemed to have no clue who I was talking about and wished me luck. I got her number and contact info (man, that stuff was easy in highschool). One day I learned that she had never had eaten gingerbread before, so I went, got her some (it just so happened a school event offered free gingerbread), and wrote a poem about it! I gave her the ginger during the break in class, but didn’t get her the poem. We went on Christmas break.

I started talking with one her Dutch friends who was in some of my classes, and as we became good friends, confided within her everything. She loved my poems and romanticism and what not, and encourage me to write them and said she would find out if Delight liked me or not.

At this point I had written a small amount of poems about Delight. One poem about the dance we had was even called “Turkish Delight”. I talked about Delight constantly and she was on my mind all the time. I talked with my friends, my parents, and the Dutch girl. At first they were all supportive.

In January I didn’t talk to Delight for a while and I thought it was all over. I wrote sad poems about the end and how I wish I had another chance. Then I started talking to Delight again and I started writing happy poems. I remember I woke up at three in the morning to write a poem about her, inspired from a song by Akon that reminded me of her. In April, she saw a poem I wrote about her because I mentioned I had won some poetry competition and she an awkward thank you. In April, before Spring Break, we had a group presentation due and I took complete control and made a fool of myself (the class was amused but the teacher was not). She got pissed off at me. My Dutch friend told me through text a day later that Delight did not like me. When I went to talk to Delight she told me not to talk to her for a while.

I felt crushed. I talked about her all the time still. My friends tried to lift me up. They told me that they had tried to get me to look at other girls but I only had eyes for Delight. One friend asked Delight if she would ever date and she of course said no.

If you felt sympathetic but tired of hearing my story up until this point, then you felt exactly like my friends. It took until January of the next school year for me to stop talking about this girl.

However, I did learn a lesson from this major fail – I learned not to get too attached to any one girl  too quick.

I mean, I never even kissed this girl. We were never going out. Yet, in my head I was already dating this girl, in love with her, obsessed even. I wrote over 12 poems about this girl and even wrote some vague poems on Facebook about her (I have since deleted the Facebook ones). I got way too attached for no reason at all.

I have kept the poems I typed on my computer as a reminder of what happened so I never make the same mistake again. So far, it’s worked.

Learn from my fail.


24 thoughts on “My First Major Fail

  1. Wow, that’s rough. In elementary school I wrote a girl a note saying that I liked her and asking her if she liked me back. I handed it to her while we were all in separate groups working on a collaborative assignment. At the bottom I had stated, “P.S. Don’t show this to anyone.”

    You can guess what she did immediately after opening it. That’s right, she showed it to everyone in her group and they all laughed and looked over at me so it was obvious.

    • It was rough, but in the end, it helped more than it hurt. It taught me the most important lesson early on – not to get too attached to a girl right away.

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  5. Damn, sounds like my time at school. But I never really learned from it until recently.

    I wonder what got into our heads there. Is that the natural thing for a boy to do or were we just damaged? Did you grow up with a dad? If so, how did he handle that kind of stuff?

    • I think it’s a natural thing for a boy to do. Think about when you were even younger and knew even less about the world. At the very least you were curious about the female form. Most kids play ‘Doctor’ at some point in their lives.

      There was an incident in elementary school where I got in trouble for being too mean to a girl on a school bus. Apparently, at one particular instance I through a pretzel at her and a piece of it got stuck into her eye. This prompted her to cry to her parents, her parents to call the school, the school to call my parents, and then shit rolled downhill onto me. My Dad told me that men in the “Wald” family were meant to protect women, not to harm them. From there, combined with random societal messages I absorbed (and I don’t even remember what they were or where I got them from – probably school) I became worried about dealing with the female form, lest I did it wrong.

      Also – when I was even younger, like pre-school or something – I used to go to a house with a playground that functioned as sort of learning environment and daycare. I used to convince some girl to reveal herself to me, which she would happily do. I never reciprocated and she never complained too much. I often got spanked for doing this and I can only assume that was the beginning me suppressing what came naturally.

      Heck – I’d say a lot of what ‘game’ is, is giving yourself permission to do what comes naturally. A lot of this stuff, deep down, is not new to you.


      My Dad didn’t really give me much advice when I was younger. The only time we ever talked about sex really was about how degrading porn was to women when they discovered I used my mother’s computer to pursue a new interest (back when pop-up ads, spam, and porn viruses were becoming all the rage). I’d say I got a lot of well meaning, but counterintuitive advice from my parents. My Mom because, well, she’s a woman. And my Dad, because he didn’t account for the change in the boy/game girl and society at my level because he probably didn’t even know it had changed that much, beyond a vague notion.

      It wasn’t until later on, in highschool that my parents started really giving me advice with girls and while it was good advice in many cases, it just didn’t work for me at the moment. I’ll give them credit for listening to me rant and rave about the thousands of articles I read from the manosphere, giving me an adult and experienced (in life) view of things to sharpen my understanding of various ideas. They also probably account for part of why I never went through a “woman hating” phase as was apparently common for those baptized by the ‘red pill’ in the manosphere around that time.

      In college, when I had about three long distance or long term relationships, my parent’s advice became relevant and good when I started turning full circle from “wanting to bang everything” to realizing that in my heart of hearts, I want a wife and a mother for my children.


      I didn’t really start getting to know my Dad until high school. By then I preferred his company to my mother’s. In college I’d say I started to grow rather attached to both of them, and since becoming more aware of things, have grown to truly love them, despite the fact that neither of them are perfect.

      If you want to know more about my father and I, look here:

      Thanks again for your comments. I enjoy replying to them and may come up with an idea for a post or two through them.

      All the best,


      • Haha, the pretzel incident. Fantastic.

        Yes, that is why I asked. I am convinced that all this chump behavior is really just repressed natural male sexuality. If you look at people in Peru or some poor places full of hardship, you never see men pandering to women. They just stand there in bored male indifference and let the women cruise around them.

        Your dad seems a bit brainwashed himself. Disciplined, but not very inquisitive. My dad is a good man, too, in his own way – aside from leaving me alone and not wanting me.

        Yet when I asked him for advice with girls, he came up with bullshit and denied that my ideas about the red pill had any validity. It kinda broke my heart. I had imagined him as the man who had all the answers and if I just brought up the courage to ask, I would have that right fatherly experience.

        These days, I focus on god. He has all the answers. Or, what I think to be more true, he supports everything I do the way I want to do it. And that is all I need.

        Thanks for that lengthy reply, I appreciate it.

        • Yep – I was a bit of a troublemaker apparently.

          I could see that. It makes total sense. Repressed male sexuality leads to all thirstiness we see endemic in men today.

          I don’t think my father’s brainwashed, and I’d prefer you be more thoughtful with how you word thoughts about him. He’s led a tough life and a remarkable one and I believe is extremely smart. I do not believe that he is not inquisitive – rather – he is not me – therefore he is inquisitive about the same things. Secondly – he’s spent more than six decades on this earth. His priorities are different than mine are. There’s less he cares about other than my mother and family. That he was not able or willing to give much advice on sleeping with lots of women is no character failing of his. That he’s been married to my mother for over 27 years and has never taken the liberty to forsaken for another flesh, is a source of wonder and pride to me.

          I understand the way I may speak about him may paint him in different lights, even if one of those lights was not intended. Mostly, that’s because I can’t just take what’s in my head and stick it in yours so that you understand perfectly what I am saying or where I am coming from. That or maybe you’re projecting a little bit. Either way – it’s not a huge deal – but I’d appreciate consideration.

          Focusing on God is a good idea I think, especially in your case. It appears that he is a more a father to you than your own is and was, by the way you speak of him.

          No problem. I appreciate your comments, brother. You have interesting thoughts and I enjoy the conversation.


          • I sincerely apologize if I insulted you or your father. I did not think much of the comment; we are all brainwashed in one way or another. Naturally, I am projecting a bit, as I only know my version of reality.

            It is just that there is this big bunch of men out there who think they have all the wisdom on earth and think they can tell me how to live my life. They come out of nowhere and expect respect for their ideals that they blindly adopted from their own fathers – like faith and shit. They may be tough guys, but that does not mean they are not brainwashed. In fact, they often react quite offended when you question their ideals. They hold their fathers in high esteem – in too high an esteem, possibly. I do not mean you, by the way; it is just my general observation.

            My aggressive wording may partly stem from envy for the thing you had. A thing I do not – or choose not to, for sake of avoiding pain – believe in. Again, apologies where due.

            • Apology accepted; water under the bridge.

              Of course – and I only know mine.

              There a bunch of men out there. These two posts may be useful, for you. They go together.


              My father’s not perfect. To my frustration, I can only discuss WW2 and alternate history so much before he can’t continue the discussion or accept, even hypothetically any of the premises I present. He does have blind spots of course. But to expect any man to have all the answers and to be perfect is to do him a disservice – on God is perfect and has all the answers. And maybe he sees it fit that we don’t know all of them. Any man who claims otherwise of himself is automatically due suspicion of either being an idiot or a hustler, in my opinion.

              I can see it being a general observation – but for future reference, you ought to be more careful explicitly state then when dancing around personal topics such as people’s fathers or mothers.

              Possibly – I’ll let your words speak for themselves.

              I already figured that your message was a good intent, poor performance type of communication error.

              So again – water under the bridge, brother.


            • Thanks. Glad it will not be a big issue.

              If I happen to step on your toes again, you are welcome to challenge me to a non-lethal duel if we ever meet and hold me responsible. I prefer that to having to be overly careful from now on. Although I do trust myself to be a bit more respectful now.

              No, I do not expect anybody to be perfect. You know, since you mention that god has all the answers, here is my take on it: I think that god encourages me to stand behind all ideas that I come up with through my intuition. On top of that, he gives me the confidence to drop them if they turn out to be false. The truth is, I do not think he has all the answers, because I do not think there are any absolute answers. All you can ever do is believe in whatever you want to be your truth. Or keep questioning and loathing yourself.

              I agree about that suspicion regarding hustlers and idiots. Unfortunately, this is knowledge that has come to me the hard way, possibly because I was searching for god in men for a long time, unable to challenge their ideas. And there are a lot of these people out there who appeal to lost souls like I was one. The scammers who sell ebooks that tell you that you gotta talk about babies to women to lay them.

              I personally met a man who has made lots of money by selling scam pills for fat people. I did not think much of it first and found it funny, but eventually, my gut told me that I do not want to be friends with him due to that. So I had to let him go despite generally liking him.

              Luckily, I am learning to have my own head. And yeah, being basically completely family-less makes it a bit amusing to me when people attach such great value to members of their family. Then again, I just have to remember all the nights I cried myself to sleep because I did not have them. So I guess I am just the mean bully on occasion.

            • My mother was a bit of a grammar Nazi and corrected me a bunch. So the habit is ingrained in me, I guess, too.

              Otherwise – that makes sense.

              Family suffering has a tendency to start a cycle – father beats son, son grows up and beats own children (or any other type of dysfunction). In a sense, you’re a victim. In a sense, you’re also a perpetrator. It’s up to you to break the cycle.

              But of course. You’ll either have to cure yourself of underlying issues that cause you to have these fantasies, or find someone with whom you can safely act them out (depending on what it is you desire). If you have children, as long as you know what right looks like, give them love without condition, and can shield them from the baser parts of your nature, you can break the cycle there.

              (The cycle being, one family member passing down a dysfunction to their descendants parent to child all the way through)

              It’s a terrible thing to wish for. It’s an evil more terrible thing to lay the blame on someone else for a desire to kill yourself. My half sister sent her daughter a letting professing a desire to kill herself and blamed her daughter for ruining her (my half sister’s) life. That’s part of why I wish she was dead and have little sympathy left in my body for her.

              “If I can have some communication with you on top through occasional comments”

              Please explain this sentence.

              (Aside from that part – you seem self aware and genuinely desirous of bettering yourself. And you’ve commented a lot on my blog which I like. It gets lonely writing these things with few people to talk about them with).


            • I have the theory that a lot of that bad behavior is really just trauma, thus stored tension in muscles. If you manage to release it, you kinda solve the underlying problem.

              In fact, the more I am admitting of those baser parts of me, the less I feel the need to act them out. I think I will make a decent father one day. Not a perfect one, of course, but hey. Not now, though, as there are things I want to be able to teach my sons, for instance game.

              What do you not understand about the sentence? I meant to say that I appreciate conversing with you and learning from you and hope to be able to do that in the future. Since we communicate through comments at the moment, we can keep doing that. If you prefer an exchange by email – or no exchange at all – be sure to let me know.

              Heh. I always wish I had a greater variety of commenters on my blog. But then again, I do value those people who actually do comment regularly. The wish for ‘many friends’ is something from a time when any particular friendship really meant nothing.

            • I could see that – it makes sense. I think part of releasing it is accepting that it is and realizing that it does not always have to be, if that makes any sense.

              Judging by your self awareness and how you reflected on those 4 weeks with your father, I think you’d be right. Your narcissistic nature, I think, would make it too painful to be a bad father and risk coming to grips with such a fact.

              I understand now – just a stray word that muddled the meaning of the sentence. No matter. I’m happy to converse through comments now; both on my blog and yours. While comments on my blog may eventually grow cumbersome, I find multiple email threads would also be cumbersome.

              Perfectly understandable. I tend to see it from the other side. After having many fake friends I long for a few good friends. The rest are acquaintances and could die, for all I care.


            • I do not think that the narcissistic parts of my self would make me a good father in any way. They are more weakness than strength. I will elaborate on that in my response to a comment you left on my site.

              Cool. Yeah, the only problem with your blog is that the comment section becomes pretty narrow at some point; but it is nothing I can not live with.

              Ah, so you too have made that experience. As you say, the desire for somethng deeper is strong in me as well now. It is somewhat new for me, the concept of male friendship and I find it a bit awkward to admit to not know how that can work, but I think it is best to approach it as all matters in life: Without trying to force it into expectations and overthinking it.

              Indeed, the rest could die. It is a harsh thing to say in this politically correct world where you are made to believe that the whole world is your family and to love each as your brother and sister. And use that as a justification for the welfare state. It is really just leeches putting on the mask of altruiism. The concept just is not true.

            • Perhaps you’re right. I don’t fully understand narcissism (which supports the idea that I am not, in fact, one).

              Yeah – it’s annoying, but I prefer the way my comments look to the Digg comments. Also – I rarely every have comment conversations that last long. Yes – the post “The Purple Pill” will clue into more on that, too. The concept of male friendship is not as hard as people make it sound, I think. I treat my best friend as a brother. But not normal friends. Were I to treat everyone like a brother than the significance of treating someone like a brother would evaporate. The truth is often harsh.


            • Yes, that makes sense.

              Is it harsh? I am not sure. I like the idea of having a ‘brother’, but I hate the idea of forcing it. You either feel that way towards each other or you do not. It is nothing that is deserved by virtue of wanting it. Rather, it is earned by virtue of someone wanting to give it to you. And all you can really do to qualify is being honest.

              I think I would like to be a good friend of yours, but then again, I do not know you all that well and I am basically just imagining you to be something you may not be.

              Maybe the important point about truth being harsh is that it is – usually – not that somebody wants to make your life hard, but that everybody simply is a ‘victim’ of reality and that includes the reality of your own personality and preferences. Sure, you can fake that and override it for a ‘good cause’, but interestingly, the value immediately evaporates. If someone were to be your good friend just because you ‘deserve’ it, it would not mean anything, because you would not be valued for who you are. And you would have to ‘work’ to keep it working all the time, overriding your instincts. No way to live.

            • Of course. I treat my best friend as a brother because he does the same to me. Why do we treat each other brothers? We met in my third year of college, believe in similar things, are both thought criminals and enjoy each other’s company. It’s now three years that I know him and he’s had my back and I his. He’s the best friend I have, especially with how much he knows about me and accepts it. We’re both brutally honest to each other. It’s part of the deal.

              Perhaps we might be good friends some day if we meet. But over the internet, we can be little more than good acquaintances. Like you said – I barely know you. I merely have an idea of what you are. What I do know is I enjoy conversing with you, which as far as things on the internet go, is good enough for now. I don’t expect anything more than that from you.

              I really like that statement – “Everyone is a victim of reality.” I shall tweet that, with proper credit due.


          • No problem.

            I imagine it would take quite palpable mal intent behind something heinous you might say to really incite me to demand a duel. In person it would take less – but then I’d be able to better discern what you mean with all the extra variables in communication normally lost within the medium of text.

            That’s perfectly fine – respect is perhaps a better word. Do not tread on eggshells on my account. I’ll let you know if you’ve gone too far and that will be that. That said I think this shouldn’t be an issue henceforth.

            One question about God. Why don’t you capitalize him in a sentence? Whether you’re religious or not, God is a proper noun, and therefore befitting capitalization.

            That could be possible that he does not have all the answers. But you will never know for sure, or rather, you will never know absolutely, will you?

            “Looking for God” in men explains a lot about your biases and projections. “Looking for God” in women explains a lot for other men. At least you’ve learned your lesson now – who knows what the price of learning may have been later in your life.

            Well done. Eventually you learn to trust your gut and yourself. It’s the bedrock of confidence – trusting yourself.

            Of course. You won’t find someone who has a good relationship with their family advocating just cutting a family member out of your life if the relationship gets strained. Maybe you’re a bully, at times. But you’re an honest and self aware one. So there’s that.

            Oh – and you know when to stop. That’s more than some great men in history can say.


            • Cool, deal.

              Why do I not capitalize god? I think I do not do that because I do not subscribe to any normal concept of god. If I wrote God, I imagine I would be referring to the Christian vision of god. I am also not certain that there is just one, although I intuit that it is so. Frankly, it is a non-issue for me. I do not care either way. As for it being a noun, you write ship, too, and not Ship. Right?

              In my case, cutting out my family was the only reasonable thing to do. My mother is mentally ill and would have continued to abuse me in her own ways. I am not sure if you ever heard of Borderline Personality Disorder. I suspect that that is what she had. For instance, my grandmother always used to be a sweety when we visited her. But, inevitably, after a day or two, the mood would change and she would cry horribly and accuse me and my mother of wanting her to die.

              No male role models in my family either. Uncle died when I was a baby. Grandfather, too. Father left for the United States.

              Whole shit left me a psychological wreck. And it is only the last months that I am coming to actually realize that. I always knew that something about my life was weird, but I felt ashamed of admitting it. When somebody said ‘What is wrong with you?’, it literally triggered panic inside me. Really weird. These days, I prefer to focus on getting better.

              Knowing when to stop, yeah ….

              Unless it is a police officer.

            • That’s fair enough. But ship is not a proper noun.

              (For full disclosure – I’m still officially a diagnostic as I believe that who I am to claim that God exists or doesn’t? How could I know, with all my limitations?)

              That’s perfectly understandable. My family’s not perfect you know. We have a black sheep in the family.

              That is – my father’s first daughter – my half sister (not my mother’s daughter – she’s my father’s second wife, first one left him).

              I’ve heard of Bipolar Disorder. Black sheep has it. She’s manipulated and cost my family tons of grief and my father thousands upon thousands of dollars and has driven a sizeable wedge between my father and my mother at times. She got my sister into smoking cigarettes and apparently had thoughts of getting me high, at 5 years old. Luckily my mom had tapped the phones in the house and kicked her out of the house to protect my sister and my (half) brother. She risked her marriage with my father over this decision. Luckily they’re still married today.

              So I certainly understand cutting a family member out of your life, especially if they don’t give you any option. I’ve tried to help my sister, especially since being the baby of the family awarded me the privilege of not being privy to the whole host of fucked up things she’s done and done to my family.

              While I still love her as a sister – were she to threaten to kill herself, I’d tell her to go ahead and pull the trigger. And I’d hope she would. If she had killed herself 20 years ago my family would be a lot better off today. It breaks my heart that I could say such a thing about my own flesh and blood. But there it is.

              I’d say blogging and talking to various men who seem to have it together without trying to sell you anything is a good start. If you can, see if you can find a good mentor in person. I can only do so much through a computer screen.

              Heh – nice one, but take it from me. You’re allowed to take compliments when you’re given them.


            • I was only vaguely aware of the existence of proper nouns. Still, I think my argument applies. God is to me a word then like mouse. There can be many mice but only one Mickey, so to speak. Mickey would be the Christian god in this silly metaphor.

              Bipolar Disorder is different from Borderline Disorder, but the categorization is irrelevant in this discussion.

              You know, the really fucked up thing is that despite knowing that my family made me suffer terribly, I know that this has – at least in the past – not made me a better person. In fact, it pretty much made me the same kind of horrible that my mother was. Or perhaps a complementary horrible.

              So I can not even sit here and say ‘I am such a poor victim’. Because the truth is that this background turned me into quite some kind of asshole myself and I have hurt my own fair share of people in my semi-conscious state of living. All out of fear, guilt, shame, envy.

              You can not play in mud without getting dirty. And I reckon that this is also the source of my sadism and rape fantasies.

              I share that sentiment regarding wishing her to kill herself. I wrote my mother just that, actually. She once tried to kill herself, then I was made to feel responsible for it. I wrote this in a letter to my mother that I published:


              I feel honored that you would consider being my mentor, if not for the computer screen. Do not worry, I have found someone who shares a similar background as me and that somewhat grounds me. If I can have some communication with you on top through occasional comments, even the better!

              Taking compliments. Mh. Well, I try to only take them when I think them appropriate. That is, when I share their estimation. I no longer feel I am an inherently bad person, luckily, so I can understand your point at least.

              Here is another angle on compliments: I do not like to accept them because I feel they oblige me to keep doing the thing I was complimented about. Which feels like a restriction of my freedom to change on a whim. But maybe that is a mindset of a past me; a security I no longer need.

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