She was beautiful, and she was lost.
I met her in a fancy department store in the afternoon. Janina was her name. She was working as a personal shopper for women. I was checking out McQueen shirts when she passed me by in menswear, holding a big pile of shirts.
I approached her, spoke with her briefly and asked for her number, which she gave me willingly enough.
Even I was a little surprised—she was high up on the aesthetic scale, and, although I have always preached that ‘there is no such thing as leagues’, when you meet a woman who is especially beautiful it is natural to wonder whether you meet her ‘minimum entry requirements’—even though you will naturally hide this in your approach.
Janina was Lithuanian, and had lived in London with her sister for a eight years. The department store job was fine. Selling dresses to rich Russian and Arabic women. 10% commission on sales. And when you’re regularly ringing up £10k or more for a single customer, that adds up.
Such a store is a bitch-fest behind the scenes, of course. Staffed mainly by beautiful young women and gay men, behind the aesthetic grandeur of its facade the claws are out. Insecurities run high. The desire to look young, thin and pretty is huge. Laxatives are shared around like coffee powder.
Well, you’ve got to stay slim if you want to attract that rich sugar daddy from Doha who will buy you the £18k watches and the Chanel handbags.
She works six days a week there. When she’s on lates she doesn’t get up until 11. And most of the week is spent out at the private members’ clubs. It is an endless merry-go-round in Mayfair: Annabels, The Cuckoo Club, Maddox.
‘I like to be around people who are successful,’ she explains, when you ask her why she favours these places.
Certainly, you find more multimillionaires and even billionaires in Mayfair than any other district in London. And of course, it might seem odd that a young girl from a humble background in a small city in Lithuania feels necessitated to hang around such places.
But she is beautiful and so it makes perfect sense.
On the Mayfair club scene, men’s currency is, well, currency—money. Women’s is beauty. It doesn’t matter if she grew up in a Rural village in Romania. If she is beautiful then her value shoots up sky-high as soon as she steps off the plane at Heathrow.
Anyway, the crazy carousel of the party scene knocks her for six most weeks. On her days off she stays in bed in her messy room in Notting Hill eating McDonald’s and watching Jeremy Kyle until late in the afternoon.
Well, what else is there to do? She doesn’t much like museums or art galleries (they bore her) and, aside from expensive dinners with rich men at Sexy Fish or wherever, she doesn’t really have much else going on.
Of course, such girls are accessible to the renegade playboy. While she may well have a rich lover who flies her over to Dubai at weekends, and buys her all the toys she wants, she is generally not sexually satisfied by such an arrangement.
As such, having got her ‘provider’ on lockdown, she will often be in the market for some no-strings attached sex with someone who fits the ‘lover’ archetype—mysterious, not desirous of commitment, a provider of exciting orgasms rather than expensive trinkets.
If you position yourself correctly (and it’s not hard to do) then you can certainly fit the bill.
But here’s the thing—you need two things: time and flexibility.
You see, girls like Janina do not work a regular 9-5 schedule like other people. They are barely aware that such a constraining life exists at all.
For Janina, going out until 5am on a Wednesday morning, only to crawl back to bed through dismally-revealing sunlight in Notting Hill and not emerge until late afternoon, is nothing to be remarked upon. It is entirely normal.
This being the case, if the renegade playboy seeks to meet and play with such a girl, then he must be flexible—not with money so much, but definitely with time.
To put it simply, if her window of opportunity to get together and fuck is this Wednesday afternoon at 3pm, and you are not available at that time, then all is lost.
She is not going to rearrange her nights out at the clubs for you. And even if she invites you along, at that point you are thrown into competition with every other Tag-wearing fop in the place. Which is not a position you really want to be in.
This is precisely why the renegade playboy must be self-employed. There really is not other option for it—or not one that is sustainable long-term, anyway.
But when I say self-employed, I don’t mean he runs a cupcake stand, or something that requires all of his time. He must cease trading time for money. He must focus on developing assets that deliver him a passive income so that he can take time off when he likes to attend to his ‘romantic dealings.’
This is precisely why I developed my own business. Because if you want the kind of lifestyle that gives you the necessary flexibility for girls like Janina, then you have to find a way to make money for yourself that does not interfere. A ‘freedom business’, if you like.
(If you want to learn how I did it, my new course Personal Brand Mastery drops very soon).
I see Janina from time to time. We are friends now, the white-hot heat of passion having been extinguished some time ago. Without drive or determination to create anything for herself, her life seems dull—her working days spent in the store, her evenings at clubs that play The Black-Eyed Peas unironically, looking for a rich guy who might hang around this time.
While young women’s beauty undeniably ensures that they have an easier time of it than men in the sexual marketplace, I do not envy them. The narrative of many women’s lives is so constrained by their biological needs—that is, increasingly, after 25, the need to have children, and therefore to find a ‘stable provider guy’ to enable that.
While many guys also want to have a family, they have more freedom of choice around this (not least because they are fertile until much later) and as such they have greater autonomy.
And for that I am very grateful. For my renegade playboy life would not be possible without it.
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