Tom Torero - Daygame : A Street Seducer’s Journey

Daygame

Tom Torero

Copyright Tom Torero, London, 2012

Formatted For Kindle February 2016 (3nd Edition)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied or republished in print or electronically without the authors express permission.

www.tomtorero.com

Contact Tom: tom@tomtorero.com

INTRODUCTION TO THE KINDLE EDITION

The 1st edition of Daygame was published in a whirlwind of madness as 2012 drew to a close. It was all very DIY spelling mistakes, lack of proof-reading and no design work. I was heading off on a year-long world tour and wanted to get the stories out before I left. It was my first attempt at publishing and so I was just happy to have finished writing the manuscript.

One year on I added some polish with a contents, an index, photos as well as some minor changes to the text itself to improve the flow. Still I wanted to preserve the underground, homespun feel of the original book with its strong underground Banksy meet Bond London roots.

This third edition is almost identical to the second, just modified for the Kindle format. Yes, its still rough and ready, and perhaps overly packed with lay reports rather than failure stories, but thats how I recorded these events when I wrote them up as field reports in a private blog, before combining them into the collection youre about to read.

The book remains a testament to the transformative power of daygame. The stories and experiences in it have completely changed my life. Things have come a long way in the daygame scene since I began my journey, but this book documents those first fledgling days.

Onwards and inwards ;)

Tom Torero, Columbia, January 2016

PROLOGUE

In the last three years I have slept with over 100 attractive women, some of them extremely beautiful and well out of my league. Not by meeting them in nightclubs or bars, not online or through my social circle, but by stopping them on the street in broad daylight, stone cold sober. Lawyers, dancers, doctors, nannies, models, air-hostesses, students, nurses, TV presenters, wives, writers, strippers, bankers, painters, musicians, from nearly forty different countries. I dont have classically good looks, a powerful job, a flash car or an expensive suit. What I do have is daygame.

Spring 2012

Leave your drink but bring your bag I grinned as I took her by the hand and led her from the candle-lit glow of the dark cocktail bar to the sobering lighting of the bathrooms. The few guests in the venue were oblivious to what was going on in front of them. It was early on a Tuesday evening and the trickle of customers were watching the jazz trio in the corner. An hour before I had met this stunning long-legged Asian girl on the busiest shopping street in Europe, and now I was about to fuck her in the toilets of a bar after kissing her on the sofas. This is crazy! she gasped as we shut the disabled toilet door and I pushed her up against the wall. Somebody will hear us!

My head was spinning, not from alcohol or fear, but from the dizzy realisation of how far Id come in the last few years, from an introverted Oxford geek to one of the best daytime seducers of women in the world.

CHAPTER ONE

Beginnings

We think too much and feel too little Charlie Chaplin

To begin at the beginning, we have to rewind to my shambolic interactions with girls at high school. With chronic acne, a reversed bite, a lanky frame and thick glasses, I was a prime target for bullying and this kicked my self-confidence into the ground. The girls at school would enjoy my nice-guy personality, laugh at my jokes, but ignore me romantically in every sense. Quickly I created beliefs that girls found me ugly, girls thought I was strange, girls just got with the bad boys. This was the hand I had been dealt, I resigned myself to thinking. So I didnt build a social circle at school, I didnt go to house parties, I didnt drink. What I did have was a brain, and I took refuge in studying and my self-proclaimed nerd status.

I became Head Boy (the teachers noticed me, even if girls didnt) and pinned a picture of Oxford University above my desk at home. This was going to be my focus - remaining in my bedroom surrounded by textbooks and revision, an academic hermit with the aim of studying Biology at Oxford. Each evening Id come home from school, turn on my lamp and sit at the small desk from 8pm until 2am. It was my escape from reality and the bullying that was going on in school. My parents just saw the impressive work schedule, not the damaged kid inside, and praised my dedication. It wasnt their fault; from the outside I seemed like the model child making his parents proud. I hadnt told them about the bullies or the social anxiety as I didnt want to seem weak in their loving eyes.

My extreme revision schedule and self-discipline paid off, and in the Autumn of 1998 I began my degree at Oxford amongst the dreaming spires and immaculate lawns of one of the oldest universities in the world. Rather than the usual right-of-passage three years of socials, drinking, sex and friendships that my school friends were experiencing at university, I further buried my head in the sand like an introverted ostrich. Oxford encouraged this - hours of silence in the library, avoidance of social situations.

By Christmas of 1998 the self-inflicted isolation and pressures triggered a wave of panic attacks. The first one hit me in the college library. I remember the surroundings starting to spin and an intense feeling of impending doom. I left my work and ran to my room, pouring with sweat and waiting for some kind of disaster. These attacks became common, and the flip-side of them was a bell-jar feeling of sadness. My doctor confirmed the diagnosis of clinical depression, and the next few months were spent trying different drugs and having uncontrollable meltdowns of crying or paranoia. Girls were the last thing on my mind.

Despite constant attempts to quit, my ever understanding parents encouraged me to stick with the degree Sure enough, the medication began to kick in, numbing me to the mood swings and allowing me to study without either the panic or the sadness. The downside of this was that the tablets left me even more removed socially - giving me a feeling of being an observer on the sidelines of reality, looking in on everyone else who was living life for real.

A few sessions of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) at the local hospital taught me how it was possible to detach our thoughts from the feelings they trigger. At the time this was just an interesting phenomenon that I accepted academically, but found impossible to put into practice. I was literally living in my head, with very little contact with the real world.

My next door neighbour in my college was fucking like a rabbit - Id hear his bed creaking and his girls screaming through the wall as I had my head in an Evolutionary Biology text book into the small hours. He quickly established himself as the college bad boy, throwing parties, making his own vodka jelly and seducing an endless stream of girls into his room. To me, a virgin at the age of 19, it was another reality.

I remember a girl from another college taking a liking to me and coming to my room one night to write an essay together. She sat on the bed while I shuffled nervously by the window. I think I lent her a book of poems and imagined making her a girlfriend in my head. Not surprisingly, she never came round again.

One of my lecturers on my course was the famous Evolutionary Biologist Richard Dawkins, author of The Selfish Gene. The book explains the genetic basis of Charles Darwins mind-blowing theory of evolution, and how it is not the species or individual that is the unit fighting for survival, but individual genes. Nature is inherently selfish because of this - Tooth and Claw rather than Peace and Love. Sex is the key mechanism for the genes replicating, and thus the biological meaning of life.