Breaking Up with My Italian Gym Rat

Today¹ it finally hit me, I have to really break up with my Italian Gym Rat. I broke up with her on 30 November, which is a bit more than 4 months now. Haven’t had contact with her ever since. Not once have I slipped or gave her any signal of my life, besides several changes in my profile picture on WhatsApp. Because neither one of us is on social media, it’s as if my life paused for her on that day.

A lot of things have changed for me since then. I started my new job which has been going great. I’m continuously optimizing my looks, devouring any Daygame memoir I can find, and of course hitting the streets with the limited time I have.

However, my results on the streets were off… In the three months that I’ve been in Amsterdam I’ve only done a staggering 16 sets with one number and reply to show for it. Two things stood out to me as reasons: A) I just wasn’t horny and B) I was still emotionally attached to my Italian.

The reasons behind A) can be attributed to an intense corporate workload, cutting for the new daygame season, and adapting to a new city and lifestyle. I demand a lot of myself and expect my life to just snap into place after taking major life changes.

For B) I had to finally come to terms that my relationship with her is now over. I opened her in September 2024, and it took me at least over a year to realize we actually had a real relationship. Looking from the outside in it was obvious:

• Near daily texting
• Week-long stays at her place
• Her visiting me on my daygame trips

Because the guilt was eating away at me, I finally took the courage to sever the oxytocin-umbilical cord and go told turkey on my emotional supply of love and care, and trust myself alone into a life without her.

Only today, I feel I actually caught up to that decision emotionally. It’s as if, I finally got to rems with a decision I made so long ago. I’m almost sad to say it feel like the right one². I feel like I’m standing in front of an open field, having just scraped the surface of what’s possible with my daygame.

I never had a big ego (actually quite the inverse), so it feels painful for me to write that I felt simply too good for her. The value exchange was simply not equal: although she was hot, I was better looking. I outperformed her in every aspect of life (partly by merit, but mostly because life isn’t fair and I was dealt a favorable hand and she got very unlucky in her life). Her only redeeming quality really was that she loved me unconditionally. Undoubtedly stemming from her trauma, she genuinely cared about me and rooted for me. Not once did she throw me a shit test. She showed me complete devotion and submission. I feel bad for writing this, but she was trying to bridge the value gap by showing good behavior. She was the girl I trusted completely and opened up completely to.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t enough. Within a few months I just grew tired of fucking her. I just could not get hard nor excited anymore whenever I returned to Berlin to stay with her. I’m very vulnerable to women that are genuinely kind. Frankly, I rage at life (or I guess nature) while I’m writing this³, at how unfair it is that someone so kind with good intent gets punished, while I devote my attention to unattainable slags trotting the cobblestones of Amsterdam.

But today I realized the cold truth: it’s not my problem. I can’t, nor shouldn’t, bear the sorrows of the world. I have plenty of my own.

Looking in the rear-view mirror the writing was clearly on the wall:

• I stopped giving her instructions for nudes⁴.
• I rarely thought of fucking her.
• I felt constantly sorry for her.

In the end, she also mentioned that she felt things change after my trip to Belgrade in Juyly 2025. Not that anything particular hat happened on that trip⁵. I guess that’s when she knew.

I’m sending her love - and am sending her on her way. Adieu.