JTBL #9 – A Bosnian, a Slovenian, a Croatian and a Finn walk into a bar..

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Removing clutter – inserting focus

After two days of doodling about, I realized I’ve got to shake the crap out of my head and focus on my goals. Interestingly enough, my goals had become hazy and unfocused. So I’d began drifting. Sure, the move to Slovenia and the whole Italy-fiasko played a part in this, so I’m not completely hopeless in that regard.

But now it was time to get back to work and seriously focus on the things that matter.

Clearing my head was an issue of distorted proportions. I had had this Blog Launch Formula module on my desktop for the last four weeks, pretty much without progress. Mostly because of crappy internets, but also because of losing motivation for just sitting in that damn shopping mall for three weeks. So that rather tiny goal of building a landing page had turned into a massive elephant in the room.

I needed to take a step back. Forget the tiny module for a second and look at the roadmap for the next three years. Building an airbnb empire, getting a Tesla Model S and getting ten thousand subscribers for the blog. Curiously even making it a goal suddenly makes it seem plausible.

Okay, that’s three years. Then one year? That’s mostly just building subscribers and getting through the Blog Launch Formula-online class. Hoping to have a decent income by the end of the year. Then six months, every month, every week and..

..every day.

That’s six hours of work at least. Every day. On the blog. If I can grind 20 tables of poker for six hours every day, I can easily work on something as creative and interesting as a blog business for six hours. So I did. And more.

The landing page is completely ready. Only the content needs some adjusting. And I feel great for actually getting some work done!

So I’m trying to get into the habit of asking the waitress’s name, if I like the service or restaurant. To show them I appreciate their work, to work on my social skills, and possibly get a date if she’s cute. This one was pretty, sure, but not really my type. But I asked her for her name. Turns out she’s interested in foreigners and does tourist guiding as a side gig. She promised to show me around town next week. The stuff you get by asking, I’m telling ya.

Zagreb, Croatia

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We headed out to the neighbouring country with one of the locals. Zagreb was on my mind mostly for the rumoured amount of beautiful women rippled into that city. But also for getting out a bit with this local fellow.

Since I got the spark for coaching people, I had been interested in getting this dude into the dating game for quite some time. His heavy resistance to the subject made it all the more fascinating for me, being the total psychology pervert. Also, I’ve realized the people with the most extreme positions are usually the easiest ones to teach new tricks to. Apparently he’d seen rejection too many times and he just wasn’t made for dating. He was to only suffer misery on this Earth, and he had approached enough women to realize they all hated him. Oh, and no one likes him because of his looks.

Sure.

So let’s drop the bullshit for a second. Looks department? Totally fine, perhaps a few kilos extra. A few months at the gym and hell’s bells this guy would be unstoppable. Is able to speak in complete sentences. Personal hygiene is lacking a bit, but not bad. So I’m gonna wager on the usual story – guy gets rejected a few times and develops a heavy bitterness towards anything involving the opposite sex.

But we’ll see. I’m not one to presume.

So evening comes and I’m still sore from the surgery wound. But I wanna go see this city! It’s cold and my bank account gave me the office for being a dumbass at budgeting. I play out my game in my head, since obviously I’ll have to take the lead here. Warm up by talking to some girl, any girl. There! They’re standing still. Good, I don’t need to run.

-Hi. You guys know the way to this bar, this Corner Pub?

We make acquaintances and exchange a few teases. My dude-friend hovers along like a nervous stranger. Output stammering and uncontrolled. I figure I’ll take the lead. The other girl kindly decides to show us the way, so off we go to this fabled bar that’s nowhere to be found. We have a bit of banter with the other, more English-capable girl, and don’t really get past the social hooking point. Dude hovers nervously along.

Rest of the evening is me doing silly approaches and having fun. And dude cramping my style simply by standing around. So frustrating.

Yeah, I’m being mean. But the point is, a nervously weak posture, a negative attitude verging on self-hatred, a black outlook on life, and a twisted self-image will NOT get you laid. It just won’t. That shit shows.

Good news is, dude listened. Something slipped through the crests of stubbornness and started gnawing doubt into that mind of self-hatred.

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And that, ladies and gentlemen, is fucking awesome. I’m not a relationship coach by far, and my own journey is far from finished in that department. But I do enjoy seeing progress in people! And most of all, I enjoy seeing people take that first step towards getting their mind out of the gutter. Now we need to get him a victory. One date. One positive experience with a woman to start undoing the damage started by some nasty memory somewhere.

I think I have a Tinder-date in Ljubljana. Not sure if that’s a fucking stupid idea or not.

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