Does it intrigue you?
Does it disgust you?
Does it not matter one way or the other?
Now everyone who answered yes to either of the last two questions, kindly recuse yourselves; you’re fucking liars.
Suck it up; everyone wants to be sexually desirable. It’s a fundamental part of human psychology: the desire to be accepted by others. The idea of making yourself more attractive is nothing new for women; put on your lipstick, slip on the high heels, stuff your bra with Kleenex and the boys will be none the wiser. Strangely enough, both women and men are resistant to the idea of men doing the equivalent. Men are told to dress well and make money, yet everyone has at least one example of a dirtbag (drug dealer, guitarist in a crappy band etc.) who breaks these rules and still gets the ladies. Even worse, you might be told to “just be yourself.”
So a 400-pound slob who surfs MRA sites all day should keep “being himself?” How’s that working out for him?
No, the magic ingredients that separate the pussy-hounds from the Forever Aloners are confidence and forwardness. Men with backbone and grit are sexy; men who can talk to women are sexy. Seems obvious, but real life is never that simple. Unless you’re Hugh Hefner, you need a kick in the ass—or a tap—to get you moving.
Bang is that kick.
For those fearing fruity pimp hats and backhanded insults about girls’ nails, rest assured that Roosh is no “pickup artist,” but a normal guy like you and me. His method of getting you laid doesn’t rely on canned one-liners or cheesy magic tricks, but on making you more sexually aggressive and a better conversationalist. There are no stupid acronyms or nerdy slang terms like “kino,” just straight and plain talk:
It’ll be hard to last long in the game if your brain absorbs every negative incident like a dirty bar rag. That drunk white girl in Baltimore wasn’t only punching me but also my lame line, the guy who grabbed her ass in the club, and the friend who refuses to return her Hootie and the Blowfish CD. She wasn’t rejecting me—she was rejecting my approach because she didn’t know who I was. The only time a girl rejects you for who you are is when she has known you for years. When she knows you for a minute, a day, a week, or a month, you’re not getting rejected for who you are—you’re getting rejected for who she thinks you are. She’s using a small slice of what you presented to place you in a category she can understand.
Not only does Roosh go over how to make yourself a smooth conversationalist, he shows you how to direct every step of the seduction, from meeting the girl to your first date to how to disrobe her once it’s time for the dirty deed. No other book out there is this thorough, comprehensive, and dead simple; you can literally pick the book up and start using Roosh’s methods in the bars and clubs the same night. You won’t master it in the same night, but developing any talent requires time and effort; Bang’s method of sexual mastery gets you better results with less work.
Bang’s method also works not just because it’s simple and commonsensical, but because Roosh is brutally honest. Unlike the hucksters, he doesn’t promise you the sky or sugarcoat your chances, acknowledging the reality of physical appearance (and other ugly truths) in sexual attraction:
Let’s say you have hard genetic luck when it comes to your appearance. I’d compare you to a tennis athlete born with little natural ability. You have to practice six hours a day while the natural athlete practices two hours—yet he still creams you in most matches. However, because you’re committed and disciplined, you still stick with the game and pull out enough wins to make money on the circuit. You’ll never be a superstar or top-ten-ranked player, but you’ll be able to do what you enjoy, make an upper class living, and enjoy sex from your stable of groupies.
This is all well and good. Bang’s original subtitle wasn’t “Lay Supermodels in Sixty Days,” it was “More Lays in Sixty Days.” It won’t necessarily get you perfect tens, but it will get you better than what you’re getting right now.
If you’ve gotten this far into my review without closing out your browser tab in disgust, you’re already receptive to the idea that mainstream advice on dating is useless for men. Tonight, most guys are going to go home to either a box of tissues and bottle of Jergens or a bitter, mentally ill harpy who carries their balls around in her purse. They got there by taking the pabulum about “being yourself” seriously, by swallowing every lie that society foisted on them from their childhood.
Do you want to be one of them? Or do you want to be a man?
Welcome to the real.
Click here to buy Bang.