David Black Social Masters Blog

Who Is David Black? And Why Should You Care?

You may be asking yourself, “Who the hell is this David Black dude?” Well sit back, relax, bust open a cold one. Cos this is a story of how a man went from zero, to hero with women, and how you can too…

Ever have that feeling, when you were like 4 years old, and you could go up to anyone, big or small, and talk to them about anything under the sun?

What happened?

This was so easy when we were young, and now it is so difficult. So fear-inducing, so terrifying. Why is that?

When I was 4, I was in nursery school (what us English peeps call kindergarten).

It was the kind of place where your mum drops you off in the morning, and you play with crayons, ride on swings, chase other kids around, make bases and hideouts, eat chocolate sandwiches, have milk and cookies followed by an afternoon nap on a blanket, swing on swings, scrape your knee, get a plaster…

Throw mud at each other, make best friends, pretend to shoot each other with imaginary guns, wonder why the girls don’t like any of the cool stuff you do like Transformers and Tonka Trucks, help your best friend when they fall down and start to cry, eat shepherds pie for dinner, and then get a big hug when you get picked up by your mum in the evening.

Ah, the memories… Ever notice how most kids are pretty much happy and playful? Ever notice how most adults aren’t?

I’m here to explain what the fuck’s going on in the world, and how this relates to *your life*.

When I was in nursery, I had my first girlfriend. I didn’t really have a clue what that was at the time. But me and this girl with black pigtails called Emma agreed one afternoon that we were getting married.

Back then I was firing on 100% natural game (before all the destructive negative-self-image-and-beliefs and all that other shit started to kick in).

We each told our mum’s when they picked us up that evening. They were delighted, they made cooing sounds and called us adorable. We were, in our cute little 4 year old way, in love.

The grownups didn’t act like it was serious, but we were dead-set, we were getting married and were gonna have us some babies!! It was gonna be the family Black, with little Tommy and Susan Black running around our own little house… :-)

Then, a few months later, I moved house. I never saw Emma again. I don’t remember really missing her, there was too much to explore in our new house, our new neighborhood.

I don’t remember, but something inside me died that sunny summer day when all the family Black relatives packed up our belongings and moved across to the other side of town. And I was never the same again.

New school, new friends. Suddenly everything was so much more serious. Do your sums. Don’t talk. Go to lunch when the bell rings. Don’t run. Don’t shout out. All these don’ts. All these rules. I was constantly worried that I would break one of them and get told-off, or shouted at.

I made friends, mostly with guys. I remember being frightened a lot by the scary headmaster. Why he felt the need to terrify six-year-olds I have no idea, probably some ego-fueled power binge. Doesn’t matter. What mattered was the happy-go-lucky, throw grass at the girls days were gone. Well, except for the lunch times…

So I trundled through school, tried to not break any rules unless I thought I would get away with it, and pretty much stopped talking to girls. I was about seven.

What the hell?

Yeah, I’m not sure if this is a common thing or not, but I stopped talking to girls pretty much. Now I don’t think it was fear at this stage, I just wasn’t interested. All they ever talked about was Jason Donovan, or some crappy soap opera, or dolls and shit. BORING!!!

I wanted to play army with my mates, or dig a big hole in my garden with my brother, just to see how far we could get and what treasure we would uncover.

Girls just kinda took a back seat…

And then it happened. One lunch time, someone told me that Laura, the prettiest girl in our class, ‘fancied’ me. Which, in the parlance of the time, meant she was attracted to me.

They were like, “Laura fancies Dave Black!” Who, me? I remember thinking. I was *terrified*. By now I was seven, and had pretty much forgotten how to talk to these strange beasts called ‘girls’. What was I gonna do?

I saw her after lunch in class. We locked eyes for a second. I may or may not have soiled myself, I do not recall, but nevertheless there was an emotional nuclear-reaction going on in my body. I was paralysed. I walked right past her and said nothing. Nice.

Coward, I thought to myself. It’s obvious she likes you. We had been in a play together (which I had written). I had been the lead role, with her as the ‘leading lady’, so to speak. We went down a storm, the audience (which included parents) found my performance hilarious, and it was the talk of the school for the next few days.

She obviously liked a man with passion and confidence. Which I had displayed in my performance on the stage. Problem was, when it came to real life, I was clueless.

For the next few days we exchanged some pretty intense eye contact. I never did say anything to her, and barely spoke to her for the rest of my school life.

I dropped the ball big-time!

That’s it, I thought. You are a loser. You obviously have no balls, and therefore do not deserve to be with any girls, or have any girls interested in you. Just pretend they don’t exist, concentrate on your studies and this whole issue will go away. You’re making a big deal over nothing. Girls are boring anyway.

Then I turned 13, and went to big school. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your point of view), it was an all boys school. There were girls in the sixth-form, but they were like 17 and 18. They were fully grown women for god’s sake. Me, as a worthless barely-teenager had no business speaking to them.

There were some really attractive girls in that sixth-form. And I got to know their names. Secretly worshipped them. Silently  fantasised that they would one day come over and sit by me, and it would be game over (RIDICULOUS, I KNOW!!!).

All the while, I felt more and more worthless. I began to develop serious acne skin problems. I used to look at my face in the mirror and think I was a hideous little bugger. How would any woman ever want a pimple-faced loser like me?

I know, I’ll try really hard in school. Get a really good job, become really rich, and then they’ll have to like me!

So I focused even harder on studying. Did pretty well.

But as the years went on, the horrible pain of not interacting with women ate away at my soul. I tried to convince myself that they were worthless, but it was no good.

Part of me loved them, part of me hated them. And a big part of me hated myself even more.

By the time I was in the sixth form, I was in a mess psychologically. I saw the other guys that had girlfriends, the guys who had sex with girls at school, the ones that girls liked.

I felt so jealous. I hated those punks so much. But at the same time, I felt such a desire to experience that mysterious and wonderous feminine touch – I wanted to be the little bastards. I was deeply conflicted.

I was in a band, just a little 4-piece rock thing. This got me a bit of attention. I settled for a few ‘mediocre’ ghetto-girls that made all the effort and approached me.

But I was deeply unsatisfied. I felt in no way control of the quantity, or the quality of women in my life.

It sucked balls.

I went to University, down in Bristol. By this time I was starting to question my purpose in life. I realised that I had been running away from this whole ‘dealing with women’ issue by focusing on my studies. I lost all motivation to study. My life was almost at rock bottom…

But it got worse.

There was this girl, Helen, that I had been secretly obsessing over for quite a while (many months). She was cute, intelligent and really dead sexy.

It was, looking back, not my finest hour. I had poured my heart out to her in angst-laden poems that I was never going to show to anyone. I wrote in a diary expressing how, if she only knew the real me, she would realise she was with a loser and choose me instead.

I was frustrated. I had no clue what to do about how I felt towards this girl.

Then one day, I summoned up the courage to tell her my feelings…

It was a sunny spring day. She was wearing a hot black little tight top. We walked together by the park and I, David J Black, took the bull by the horns and said, “Someone likes you, you know.” “Who?” she said. “Me…” I said, probably trembling and going bright red, about to have a heart-attack. She made a ‘poor little puppy-dog’ face and said, “Aw, Dave… You’re not my type.”

I was nearly sick.

I felt like someone had sucked all the energy out of me with one of those big-bastard lipo-suction hoovers they use to suck out fat from people’s guts.

Gutted. Let down. Deflated. I felt like my whole world had been taken away from me.

This was it, I thought. Conlcusive proof that I am a Grade-A loser, of the finest decree.

I did not contemplate suicide, but god knows what would have happened to me if the following never took place…

That night, miserable and depressed, some glimmer of some kind of life that remained inside me twinkled. I rolled up to my PC, went to this new and groovy-looking site called Google, and typed in something like, “How to get a girlfriend”.

That night was the turning point. What I found, blew me away. There were guys out there, like me, who had the same problems as me. They were rubbish with women too.

But even better, they were working together, helping each other. Figuring shit out. Coming up with theories, systems, lines. Stuff that actually worked.

They were changing themselves, improving themselves, awakening the inner-man that had been dormant for so long inside them.

This is just like me, I thought. This is awesome.

This was way before The Game was written, or Neil Strauss (Style) was ever on the scene. This was pre-David DeAngelo and Double Your Dating.

It was the pre-cambrian era. This was the primordial soup of attraction, social interaction. This was the nucleus, where it all began. I had hit The Motherload.

I studied everything I could find. I went out as often as I could. I felt like a caged, bound animal that had suddenly broken free.

I was on fire.

Within three months, I had gone from total self-conscious loser, to a confident, charismatic, attractive, leader. I had unleashed the man inside me.

No longer did I feel that terrible frustration of not being able to get the women I desired. Now I went after them.

And then I met the girl of my dreams. And we have been together ever since.

I won’t say much about her, but she is funny, intelligent, gorgeous, sexy, savvy, strong-minded… the list goes on. Bottom line, she is awesome.

My life is sorted. This whole ‘meeting women’ thing is no longer an issue for me. I don’t have to fake it, or use lines or routines, I just *am*.

I am now, naturally attractive to women.

I never, ever thought I would ever teach this stuff to anyone. I do not see myself as a ‘pickup artist’ or a ‘guru’. Quite frankly I dislike those words, and the people that try to claim they are gurus, or masters or whatever. Just a bunch of shite if you ask me.

What I do know is this: I used to be not-very-confident and totally unattractive, and now I can attract women and have massive confidence and self esteem.

I know what it’s like to be where I was, and I know exactly how I got to where I am now from there.

Like I said, I never intended to ‘teach’ anybody anything. Just sounds like hard work to me. I’d rather watch Dave Chapelle on Comedy Central, with my girlfriend curled up next to me going, “Do your impression of Rick James Dave!”

“Bitches, go have sex with Charlie Murphy…” :-) Chapelle show ROCKS! Thank you David Chapelle, you sir are a legend.

But anyway, a few close friends I helped with approaching, meeting and attracting women kept pestering me. They kept on at me saying I have a unique viewpoint and a certain way of explaining things that they thought was pretty effective. They said it would be a waste to not share it.

I thought maybe they’re right, perhaps I was being a lazy-ass. Which was pretty selfish if it meant guys that needed advice weren’t getting it. “This will not stand!” (Spot the Big Lebowski reference for 10 bonus points).

So I’ve started to write a few articles, which you can find here. No hype, no bullshit, no bling. Just good, solid stuff that you can use straight away to help yourself get more women in your life.

If you want ‘pickup artist’ posturing and bragging, then go watch VH-1. Come back when you want actionable, useful information.

I’m still getting used to people all over the world reading my stuff and sending me emails and the like. I’m just a regular guy trying to share my stories, and if I can help you out in your own life, with your own interactions with women then that’s great.

And that’s the most important thing. Hearing feedback from guys like you. Guys that have used what I have been blathering about, and hearing that it has made a positive difference to their lives.

That makes me feel all warm and gooey on the inside.

This stuff works. It works on all women, no matter what race. Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, whatever. Black girls respond in the same way as White girls, as Mexican girls, as Japanese girls. We are all the same on a biological level.

Us cool guys need to stick together. There’s loads of dudes out there that think this stuff is a bunch of bullshit. Next time you see one of these chumps, ask them if they’ve ever tried any of these ‘ideas’ for themselves…

Likelihood is, the pussies never had the balls.

Not like us. We got big brass ones. Just how the ladies love ‘em… :-)

Speak soon,
David Black

P.S. If you like this stuff, make sure you sign-up to my mailing list in the box below.

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