The story of how I met the disciple of the most hated man in the world is illustrative of how to (NOT) spend money on personal development...

I had just arrived in an exotic, new (to me) city...

I knew nobody there. I started by requesting to join the local Real Social Dynamics' wingman Facebook group. As I've explained elsewhere, my lifehack for forming intimate relationships fast is devoting my socializing time to high-affinity groups with deeply shared values; RSD-trained pickup artists are actually one of the best such groups. In the Facebook group, a cool-looking local guy had posted that he was offering free introductory pickup artist boot camps, which is infield dating coaching. I've never taken a boot camp, but have always been interested. If I had several thousand dollars just burning a hole in my pocket, I would do a boot camp.

He had posted a couple of indicators that he knew what he was doing, and it was a novel application of the freemium model, so I thought, why not? What do I have to lose? 
I contacted him and made what I thought was a generous offer of buying him dinner, and then we could go out at night and do the free coaching.
If he turned out to be an effective coach, I might purchase one of his coaching packages. If he sucked, then at least I would have explored the city a bit and had a stimulating conversation over a succulent meal.

A witty and in-depth discussion with my beautiful Bulgarian wife about Western men dating abroad, seeking asylum from modernity with the unashamedly feminine women that can be found in Medellin, Colombia, Odessa, Ukraine, or Sofia, Bulgaria--where I filmed this clip pretending to daygame her and her little dog...

From How to Be Cross Eyed: Thriving Despite Your Physical Imperfection — a mémoire and lifehacking manifesto

Water and I have a sordid history.

Breathless, 90 feet down

The first time I almost died underwater was during my scuba certification dive. Scuba is a badass (and expensive!) hobby but it’s quite dangerous! Every seasoned scuba diver has a story or two (or more) about almost dying. There are just so many things that can go wrong when you’re deep underwater pretending to be a fish.

I just finished this very entertaining and informative adventurer’s manifesto by Jon Levi, a behavioral scientist who likes to party.

This book follows the storytelling-rich principle, anecdote, and scientific reference format that makes non-fiction a pleasure to read. The author has a formula for epic experiences, but first…

From How to Be Cross Eyed: Thriving Despite Your Physical Imperfection — a mémoire and lifehacking manifesto

Apparently, it’s more common that you’re born with strabismus, I’m a bit of a rare bird in that I was born more or less normal and became cross eyed over time. So I was keenly aware of how people began to treat me a little differently over time.

Barcelona is the Spanish city you probably hear the most about, but I’ll make the case here why you should go to Valencia instead.

First of all, Valencia is such a better value…

I spent about three weeks in Barcelona, and Valencia seems to have everything that Barcelona does at about half to a third of the cost. In Barcelona, a very simple flatshare in a kind of cool neighborhood costs 31 Euros a night, and a shitty hostel costs $22 a night, whereas in Valencia, I found that not awful private room flatshares via Airbnb cost $10-$15.

In general, the wifi in Barcelona is quite mediocre; the speed and reliability are so wanting that it negatively affected my productivity during the time I spent there. Disappointingly, there’s just a single real digital nomad-friendly cafe in Barcelona. In contrast, the wifi in Valencia is muy buen! At cafes, restaurants, hostels, and Airbnb apartments, I consistently found the +20MB up/down connection that I need to do work.

If you want to go shopping at a Prada store, Barcelona’s the city for you, but Valencia is overall a whole lot better value for nomadic seducers.

Liberal Epicenter vs Traditional Gender Roles Bastion

After years in the pickup Shangrila of Medellín, Colombia, I made a big move to Berlin, Germany, a city supposedly at the forefront of the decline of Western society. According to the manosphere, it’s the heart of the beast of European progressivism and feminism. I wrote about Berlin on Facebook:

“The liberal-hipster culture of the city is very politically correct but at the same time blase and apathetic. So I haven’t found many people I could really connect intellectually with… As far as the fairer sex; it’s a very diverse city with a ton of immigrants so you could definitely taste the rainbow here. However, Berlin is all about the "not giving a fuck" attitude, especially amongst young people, which means women are NOT very feminine in appearance or behavior.”

In a radical lifestyle experiment and self-control challenge, I spent over three and a half months completely sober in Medellin, Colombia.

In these +100 days, I experienced meteoric personal development in multiple dimensions. I also partied with some of the coolest, most interesting, and sexiest people I've ever met. [Update: I went on to spend over six months total sober there, and intermittent sobriety was a habit that kept my digital nomad life elsewhere dangerous]

Jonathan was interviewed by Justin Jones on the Radical Travel Podcast on travel hacking, beating hangovers, and memory systems.

"You exceeded my expectations!" the beautiful Brazilian girl beside me exclaimed, in her exotically accented English, to the barista in the gourmet cafe. The barista had created one of those cute little paintings with creamer on the surface of her latte, which apparently exceeded her expectations. That entire day, even after we finished our coffee and she left with an effortlessly enunciated ciao, I couldn't help but smile at how damn cute the way she talked sounded. I'd spent quite a lot of time around foreign accents and even hung out with a fair share of Brazilians, but something about hers was unique.

After seven months in Central and South America spent learning Spanish and making friends with travelers hailing from Iceland to Pakistan, I've finally figured out what made the Brazilian in the cafe so charming.