Lay Report: Fancy a Kickabout in the Park?

I’d be lying if I said she was this hot.

The Approach

  • I met Natalie in mid-January with Dav in Islington on Upper Street. The same day I met Spanish slow-play girl.
  • 5-feet-7, slim body, cute face
  • Irish, outwardly confident, and 23 years young
  • A very banterous conversation. I remember her being a very active verbal participant who was trying hard to be funny–a big green flag
  • She was on the way to work in a health food café. After 3 mins, I took the number and let her go so she wouldn’t miss her shift
  • However… I was slightly put off by a mole just to the left of her nose, which at the time appeared to be a dodgy colour. Possibly for this reason, I didn’t follow up. *Hangs head in shame*

Valentine’s Day: Message Out of the Blue

If only every girl messaged first
  • One month later, on Valentine’s Day itself, I received an SMS from an unknown number out of the blue
  • Huge IOI obv
  • I racked my brain to remember who she was, eventually roughly remembered
  • From then on: slow but consistent frequency of messaging, all positive
  • I gradually came around to the idea that a small mole can be overlooked for a girl this keen–plus if I approached her that means she must be attractive enough, mole-aside 😉

The Day 2

  • I got her to come to Angel tube one Monday night
  • Due to her time restrictions, she arrived at 9.30pm
  • Took her to standard bar/pub on the High Street
  • Immediately it became apparent she was an extravert who had lots of guy friends
  • It would be easy to read lots of false positives into such a girl rabbiting on, with lots of beta bait tests
  • She told me she has a skateboard and is a tomboy
  • But very socially savvy–I bet she often has to out-manoeuvres beta guys creeping on her
  • Apparently her sister is the introverted one with her head always in a book; whereas she’s the rough-and-tumble one. They’re polar opposites. At some points facing the barrage of words coming from her mouth, I wish I was with the sister 😉
  • Good promiscuity signs: She told me of a small tattoo on her back; she also drank wine fast and wasn’t afraid to order a round
  • I stayed alert enough in conversation to interject and frame control when needed. I challenged her a lot, otherwise could’ve easily been run over
  • However, given she was Little Miss Chatterbox, I didn’t have enough time to “work my magic”, or really let enough sexual tension build
  • I let her escape to get the last tube. This didn’t seem negotiable with tomorrow’s plans.
  • Status at this point was: (1) early kino checked off, (2) no kiss attempt, (3) vague pull intentions hinted at… (4) but no pull attempt executed
Like this but more body

Texting after Day 2–Do I Fancy a Kickabout?

  • Continued messaging most days after the Day 2
  • She suggested a “kickabout” in the park on Sunday morning before she headed to work. Wow, there’s a first. Tomboy confirmed
  • I laughed to myself and thought “actually, why not?“; it was different from the norm, it could be good practise for filler dates, plus it’s an excuse to get physical
  • Unfortunately on the Sunday morning she flaked–she said she was hungover. No football date after all, waaahh
  • Instead we set up a proper Day 3 the following Friday
“Fancy a kick about?” Ermmm…

The Day 3

  • Following the flake, she suggested meeting in Angel on the Friday for a comedy night at a local pub–a big green light to go for the pull that night since she’s arranging the date in my neighbourhood
  • I obviously wasn’t enthused about the comedy but, according to the website, the comedy started at 8pm, so I figured we could be done with it early
  • We arrived at the pub at 7.45pm; unfortunately tickets were only left for the later 9.15pm showing
  • She was intent on still watching the 9.15pm showing, even after my objections. So I compromised and said we’d sneak out after the first act or if we weren’t laughing enough
  • We grabbed a drink in the pub in the meantime
  • I found out she had to wake up at 6am the next morning, to work the breakfast shift at the café. Because of this, she hinted at needing to get the last tube later on
  • At this point I told myself to step it up a gear, escalating much quicker, and leading conversation way more. Time to switch to closer mode, Jamie!
  • From this point forth I was uber-aware that the window of opportunity was closing, and I’d have to hurry things along more than I’d normally like to
  • I figured if we stayed and watched the full comedy, the pull would be very unlikely. The last tube seemed like a condition I’d have to work with, rather than an objection I could sidestep
  • At 9.15pm she didn’t forget about the comedy (I wasn’t going to mention it; I hoped she’d forget!). So we went upstairs to find our seats
  • In the small auditorium I made sure we sat at the end of an aisle near the door!
  • At 10pm I pulled her out of the comedy in the dark. We ducked our heads and squeezed out past people standing behind
  • I led her to a different pub near mine: final venue
  • I decided to go for the kiss to make clear my intentions with this girl. She probably has lots of guys pussyfooting around
  • Success! We kissed here, although it wasn’t the smoothest–when I decided to go for it, we didn’t start off with our faces very close to each other. However, it worked well enough and no objection from her
  • Shortly after this, I pulled her back to mine. It was now before 11pm. I still had the last tube in the back of my mind
  • No LMR in the bedroom, but as she was casually taking her clothes off she did mention we had to be quick, with the last tube looming. Ha, this made me laugh! I also thanked God I’d hurried things along and executed
  • So apparently sex is no big deal to her if she likes the dude and he doesn’t friend-zone himself. Bet a lot of guys in her social circle are stuck in the friend-zone
  • She had a great little body, albeit not a naturally curvy one–turns out she studied sports science and nutrition at uni and is even qualified as a personal trainer
  • Post sex interview: she said she was only aware that sex was actually gonna happen at the final venue (when I made explicit about going back to mine).
  • During sex she enjoyed playing with my gooch A LOT. When I enquired as to why she was so fixated on it, she said that her gay flatmate gave her tips that guys like this. Good studying Natalie, have an “A” for effort!
  • After the deed was done, good vibes and joking
  • And then, within an hour of getting back to mine, she soon got dressed and hurried off to make her way home. Great girl!

Thanks for reading.

Jamie.

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Lay Report: Spanish Slow-Play

More Mediterranean-looking.

Some girls just seem to get it. And it’s your job to not fuck it up. Their self-esteem is high enough, and they’re social savvy enough, to not really need to shit-test. If you demonstrate you’re intrinsically high value enough, and you stick the course, they’ll be up for it. If you’re not, it’s no problem: a smile and a goodbye. They can spot chinks in the armour a mile off, without having to probe and rattle. Anything too obvious or gamey, and you’ll betray your social ineptness. I’ve made these mistakes in the past with these girls, where I’ve often failed from overgaming and doing too much.

Anyway, the Saturday before last, I met a girl who fitted this exact archetype.

Opening outside of central

I was out with my wing “David” and we’d started around 2pm. We both wanted to get some January approaching done, but didn’t fancy central London. So we met to do a session around Angel, King’s Cross, and Shoreditch. Turns out there’s some decent female foot traffic in these areas too.

David was taking a bunch of action as always, jumping into difficult sets, and approaching the hottest girls without a second’s delay. This included opening a hot, high-status English girl in the queue at Starbucks with onlookers around him. A naturally awkward social situation. Which reminds me, I must listen to his audio of that one (he was recording with his dictaphone at the time).

I didn’t want to get left behind, but that wasn’t going to happen. I was feeling motivated, and had no qualms about saying hello to members of the fairer sex. Walking back down from Upper Street towards Angel, and turning into Angel Central [1], I spotted a young, Mediterranean-looking, dressed-down brunette with long hair and olive skin. She didn’t exude sex appeal in a pornstar way, but she did stir something inside me in a girl-next-door way. She was hot, slim, and smiled warmly as I opened.

Francesca turned out to be an easy-going, but shrewd, Catalan girl, who was easy to vibe with. However, she was independent and decisive–she wasn’t going to be walkover. She seemed very socially savvy for her age, yet didn’t question being approached during the day. She was very feminine and conversation was light and carefree. I mostly maintained regular conversation while looking deep into her soul and subcommunicating my true intentions. She told me she was an au pair, and was on a gap year before uni. Surface level dialogue with underlying sexual energy. A few minutes after opening, she had to go, but not before I took her number.

Francesca was warm over WhatsApp the next couple of days and seemed interested. She suggested a Sunday afternoon beer the upcoming weekend, and I suggested we do it near mine (I’d already seeded in set that I live nearby). Everything going smoothly so far. Signs were pointing towards a good opportunity for a first new notch of 2019.

Fortunately there are still girls who don’t ghost me on WhatsApp

The Day 2: Sunday just gone

Up until Sunday afternoon I’d been having a very lazy weekend. I was burnt out from a brutal week at work, and on Friday night had let my hair down till the early hours doing my first nightgame session in over a year. Over the course of Saturday and Sunday, I’d been mostly sleeping in my blacked-out room, reading Dilbert comic books (my guilty pleasure), and nipping out the house for chocolate and other comfort food runs. However I did manage two approaches whilst out and about, although they were both insta-blow outs.

Last-minute planning.

But a big challenge of game is to be able to turn it on when it’s game time, and so walking across to the date, I NLP-ed myself into a sexual and sociable mood, and did a few vocal warm-up exercises en route.

When we met she seemed a bit more abrupt than before, and we kissed on the cheek perfunctorily, neither investing too much. It was bloody freezing though. She wore a coat and scarf, but even with that on, I can discern a youthful and slim body beneath. It’s cold and I usher her to venue one.

In the first bar, she agrees to my drink choice and suggestion of a G&T (good sign). We sit side by side on a bench at a table. She drops her handbag between us, and keeps a fair amount of distance.

It’s only 5pm and I learn that I have a while with her. Perfect. No rush, I say to myself. So far, she seems just my type, so no need to push this one too hard. Enter comfort talk and chit-chat.

I learn a bit more about her background. She’s only 18, yet she’s very independent. Her family are back in Barcelona, and while she’s hoping to go to a top Arts University in the autumn, she’s now working as an au pair and part-time Spanish teacher in London.

Nothing more too noteworthy at venue one, apart from the fact that she smokes socially, and at one stage she nips outside to have one. At her request, I join her. Later on in the date, I choose not to.

Across the street in venue two, we switch it up and order beers. I decide to subtly give her the option to pay and, as I appear distracted, waiting… waiting… waiting… as the waitress tells us how much we owe. With no movement from her, I eventually cave and nonchalantly look up from my stupor and pay the bill. I really should have been more ballsy with this. Either way, I acted convincingly enough that she doesn’t realise I was attempting a sneaky move.

When getting round two in with some girls in the past, I’ve said in my most off-hand and relaxed way possible: “you’re ok to get this one, yeah?” and attempted to act very blasé. Perhaps surprisingly, it’s worked both times I’ve done it, and with no fuss. Michael Sartain, who hangs out with, and dates, some of the most objectively hot girls on the planet, even talks about how important getting investment from a girl is. Although logic and common sense suggest otherwise, he says that even with the supermodels, her investment (not necessarily monetary) is one of the biggest things that will help you. I guess getting investment from her can be explained by the Ben Franklin effect, the sunk cost fallacy, and commitment and consistency (from Cialdini)–where she’ll likely rationalise why she invested in something.

Michael Sartain and entourage.

What did appear to work out well was when, ten minutes after sitting down with our beers, she suggested getting nachos and I said “yeah if you wanna grab some I can help you with those“. So I let her order, and then made my way through most of them. They were relatively expensive for an au pair who earns nada, and they also turned out to be really shitty nachos [2].

At this stage we also learned a bit more about each other. I liked Francesca. She wasn’t born with a silver spoon and she was a nice hot girl. Francesca seemed to have social gears, where she could be very socially switched-on and “proper” around some people (growing up with older brothers and sisters probably helped this), but I could also tell there was a promiscuous girl who would come out to play, when with others. Although she seemed studious, liked to hike in the countryside, and wasn’t yet addicted to Instgram [3], she did have her belly button pierced and alluded to a few sexual escapades when prompted. The eye contact was also very on.

I told her about me, with the aide of a few stories. I tapped into previous experiences with Spanish girls, and talked about ex-girlfriends who were Spanish and where they lived, as well as where I’ve travelled in Spain. Throughout the date I also sprinkled in a few Spanish phrases (that 99% of Brits wouldn’t know).

For some reason, I hadn’t yet ramped up the explicit sexuality (verbal or physical) of the interaction. Or used the “we” frame (I keep neglecting this, bah!). Not even via the unofficial questions game we were loosely running throughout, either. She also seemed to fit more of the European blueprint rather than American/UK blueprint [4], as expected given her geography I guess! So for her, the big attraction spikes didn’t seem necessary, and felt like they would’ve been incongruent. However, I was realising that this would likely have to be a three-venue date if it was going to be a smooth pull. We could have done more drinks there at venue two, but I wanted to baby-step the journey back to mine, covering half the distance now.

So after one hour or so at venue two, we made our way to venue three. I was sure to seed that we were going to my local pub, that it was “on the way to mine“, and that I was tempted to take her “on a little adventure” later, but that “I’m still not sure“.

Venue three has good lighting and is usually more conducive to seduction. However, this Sunday evening in January it was deserted and so it felt like we were the focus of the bargirl’s attention. We were hardly an anonymous couple on a secret rendezvous. Anyway, we got our drinks and sat together on a bench behind a table looking out across the empty room. Actually there was one other couple there, also on a first date. But the guy didn’t seem to know game, and she definitely “wasn’t my cup of tea”, so I soon became disinterested and stopped eavesdropping.

Venue Three. And almost as empty.

With my focus on Francesca, I realised there was still work to do. I started to sexualise more verbally, and we were soon sharing naughty stories with each other. I was gently encouraging her to open up, and she seemed fine discussing sexual topics. Turns out she’s had quite the sexual history so far, being with as many as ten boys (I’m extrapolating here, but it has to be around that number), as well as having a long-term boyfriend up until October. The sex life of a hot 18 year old…

In terms of her viewing you as a potential sexual partner, I think that with some girls you can just imply you’ve been with a lot of girls and that sex is a normal thing that cool guys and cool girls (like you and her) do. And rather than judge, they will realise you’re “part of the in-group”. Nothing obvious and explicit, or try-hard, though–it can be a very fine line. And then the sex can just happen. However, with some more chaste girls this will not work–e.g. the superficial Made in Chelsea-type girl who recently walked out on a date with me soon after I broached the subject of sex (her loss 😉 )

Although the topic of conversational was favourable, and the subcomms were strong throughout, she didn’t seem totally relaxed with the kino: when I took her hand in mine, she seemed awkward and overly conscious of it. So I made sure to drop it soon the couple of times I tried. I also left it unmentioned and soon said something unrelated to get her mind off of it. If I don’t address the misstep, then the misstep didn’t happen. She was also still sitting some distance away.

However, at this crucial point in the date, rather than risk losing any social capital with a failed kiss attempt (or anything similar), I decided to trust I’d done enough work and after 50 minutes at venue three I suggested the bounce back–with disqualification (I said something about her not staying long because I had to wake up early). She didn’t immediately jump at the idea, but, after a similar disqualifier of her own, she was on board. She rolled a cigarette and we left.

At mine I grab us a beer each from the fridge and after a few minutes of chat in the kitchen, we move to my room. She hasn’t yet removed her shoes. But neither have I. With slighter bigger-than-normal exaggerated motions, I conspicuously remove my shoes in front of her and she realises and then follows suit with hers. Great. She nips to the loo. I’m at my standing desk, picking music to play on YouTube. I stand waiting there as she returns from the loo. She joins me, standing next to me only centimetres away (there are no seats in the room). After a while I just turn my head from the screen, we hold eye contact, and we kiss. Boom. Praise the Lord! If I’m feeling the tension after this lonnnnnng a wait, then surely she is too.

From there I still slow-play, and disengage, chat, and then go back in for a kiss a few times. Since she doesn’t seem completely horny, and she’s not moaning or anything just yet, I don’t want to trigger any unwanted inhibitions of hers.

I’ve been experimenting with my anti-LMR tactics lately. Still a small sample size, but results are looking good so far. I haven’t been doing my old trick of transferring my own horniness onto her with heavy-handed escalation. As it happens, I’ve been doing the opposite: taking it very slowly and trying to get her to lead and initiate some steps. Even with some added commentary too, which I pinched from the step-sister porn I’ve been watching for the last year or so [5]! So it’s been very slow-going, almost like how I imagine it would be for two curious-yet-“straight” girls fooling around for the first time [6] (actually I’ve watched bisexual girls in isolation on a date before and can confirm that they escalate verrrrry slowly, but then every step is all-the-more intimate to them).

Anyway, wow–what a body. The tight waist I’d already guessed by the low BMI. But the ass and the breasts are curvier and fuller than her winter layers suggested. The sex is great and afterwards we spoon and comfort-talk [7]. Then I send her on her way. She takes it all in her stride, goes off with a smile on her face, and doesn’t even want walking to the station–it’s no big deal to her.

So with this one I played it very patiently and got basically no resistance at all. Possibly this was because I took it so slowly… but it could just have been because she was DTF anyway. I’ll never know for sure. What I’d love to do is run another simulation of this date in a parallel Universe where I pull her back right away–and see whether that strategy works out or not. Maybe there was more than one way to skin this cat.

As always, thanks for reading.

Jamie.

[1] The smallest shopping mall known to man. There’s only ever capacity for one hot girl at any one time.

[2] They appeared to be a packet of Doritos emptied into a cereal bowl, with some grated cheese thrown on top. That’ll £10 please, young lady!

[3] Hallelujah!

[4] Todd V does a great job of highlighting the general differences between European and American/UK girls here.

[5] Knew it would come in handy one day. As things are really heating up, I’ve been saying things like “This is so naughty, we shouldn’t be doing this… But then again… it feels so gooood” :DDD

[6] I should point out here that I’m not a lesbian.

[7] And arrange to go to Harmony at her suggestion to buy sex toys.

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+1: Arty Italian Joins Book Club

Less “sweet” and more intense

Friday 21 Dec: I’d been on a high all day following the +1 with the South African au pair the night before. I’d had the best part of three hours sleep before a demanding day at work. But come the afternoon I was still full of energy and craving more adventure. Which was good, because I had a Day 2 planned that evening. So I got out of work, shot back home for a quick shower, and then headed out for the date. I was due to meet an arty Italian girl who I’d opened six days earlier…

The open: back to the previous Saturday

On the Saturday before, I’d been sitting in a small seminar room all day, attending the Tom Torero Dirty Tricks seminar [1]. It was a fun day, and Tom had been on good form. Of the other attendees, I already knew Mr S, “David”, and “Matthew”. I also had the chance to connect with some of the other guys, including GringoDaygame and olderguydaygame. On breaks and during lunch we were all exchanging stories and sharing our journeys. There was good camaraderie.

After the seminar, I travelled across to King’s Cross Train station with David, who I hadn’t winged with before. It was raining outside and my aim was to get a few sets in to “tick the approach box”, before grabbing a pizza and heading home for an early night. I was aiming for about five sets, to keep the momentum going.

I liked winging with David immediately: he was taking action, he wasn’t making excuses, and he seemed serious about the learning process. He was keeping me on my toes. For his third approach, I saw David jump into a difficult and socially awkward set on the upper level of the station overlooking the concourse. He’d seen a tall, hot blonde sitting in a restaurant’s seating area and had pounced. No faffing or waiting around. I watched for a minute and was inspired.

At moments like this, I always feel the need to step up my own game. I was looking around feverishly for opportunities to open. Being Saturday evening there was a lot of foot traffic and I didn’t have to wait long. Walking towards me I saw a five-feet-six brunette, who was unrushed and looking relaxed. She had an arty appearance and was and well put together, wearing a jumper with a girly skirt and tights. I opened her immediately head-on before I had chance to think or weasel. She received me well and appeared stoic and enigmatic. Our eyes held, held, held. A good sign.

Angela was an Italian living in South London, who was on her way to a birthday party. I found out she’s 24, works in marketing, and was obviously well-educated. She wasn’t as fiery as other Italians I’d met in the past, and explained that she was from Milan originally but has been living in London for a long time. Very metropolitan. It was a decent-enough set with a normal amount of teasing and flirting. Towards the 5 minute mark, I did my job and took the number.

Nothing too special over WhatsApp

The Day 2: Friday Evening, six days later

Texting had been straightforward, and she’d agreed to meet me at my Tube station after work. I’ve previously mentioned that I’m hopeless at recognising new faces. Well, I’m even more hopeless when it’s dark. So, come the Day 2 meet, I was walking towards the station to meet her just after 8pm, and even had her on the phone. Locating her should be simple from here, you’d think. I start to walk directly towards a girl who at a distance fits her appearance, has a phone to her ear, and is standing near to the landmark she’s describing. Is that her? Wait, her hair wasn’t that dark, was it?? Shit! It’s a different girl!! Fuck!! Fortunately, before it’s obvious I was walking up to the wrong girl, Angela intercepts me from the right, and taps me on the arm. I react quickly and she doesn’t seem to notice my error, phew. She looks good but she’s dressed up with lots of layers on. Hopefully just because of the outside temperature.

I walk her to Venue One, a “pubby” bar on Angel high street. No serious or risky conversation en route (or generally when travelling between venues). She’s receptive to the light vibing.

At the bar, the older barmaid gives me a knowing smile. I must have brought nearly ten dates here now. However, it’s a different, Mediterranean barmaid who actually serves me. This girl must be new because she thinks I say two “green teas” when I have of course ordered two “G&Ts”. I find this hilarious and it’s a good opportunity to crack a few jokes and get everyone involved. “Hey everyone, look at me! I’m social and fun to be around!” –I may as well be broadcasting. We pay and look for seats. It’s Friday night and the place is full, so the only option is two stools at a tall table.

After sitting, I find out that her mother has flown in from Italy today to visit her…and she’s staying with her in South London! Of course I immediately interpret this to be a bad thing, and wonder about the repercussions for our date. I enquire casually, trying to determine how long I have with Angela, and whether she has to get back to her mother later. She implies she can stay out late-ish. Not a very concrete or useful answer, and I’m still unsure how long I have. So it’s in the back of my mind throughout that I should probably move things forward a little faster today.

When seats open up on a bench, I move us there. She starts to take the seat facing the bench, so I instruct her to move over to the bench, and then I follow in next to her. She shuffles across to keep her distance a bit, but no problem I tell myself. Just give it time.

From here, it’s all very routine for the first venue. Questions game. Eye contact. Story-telling and frame building. However, there’s far less kino (almost nil, in fact) than I’d prefer, but she doesn’t seem fully ready for it yet.

She’s eager to buy a round in return, so I suggest we switch to another pub. I describe the place I have in mind in a very positive light, as well as slipping in that it’s “my second-nearest local pub“. No surprises tonight, I’m thinking. Let’s seed everything way in advance.

At Venue 2: it’s busy and the people next to us are listening in

At the second venue, the conversation takes a more sexual tone, and kino is improving, although it’s only intermittent hand-holding. We’re sat at right angles to each other, where two benches meet. It’s busy and we’re close to the nearest table, who are able to hear most of our conversation. Not ideal, but workable of course.

We’re telling each other tales with sexual themes, and she’s at ease with this. Although we still haven’t fully penetrated (heh) the “we” frame, the underlying interaction is still man-to-woman. The subcommunications, along with the indirect sexual references, are propping this pillar up. She’s told me she doesn’t like PDAs [3], and it’s evident that a kiss or excessive physical escalation would hurt me right now. Nevertheless, looking back now, there still wasn’t enough “togetherness” at this stage of our interaction.

With more kino out of the window, I could’ve (and should’ve) been escalating on the “we”/”us” verbal channel–to increase our narrative and make it all about the two of us. With that being said, in the past I have still pulled and converted in similar situations. But at this stage in the date, the potential lay still felt up in the air and subject to more chance than I’d prefer. I hadn’t properly laid the foundations.

It’s 10.30pm, two-and-a-half hours after we met. In the back of my mind I’m thinking about the mother waiting back at Angela’s flat in South London. I worry that the window of opportunity might close soon. Just before we finish the second drink at the venue, she rejects my vague idea to bounce back to mine, though I’ve worded it rather ambiguously. What makes me laugh is the reason she gives: an explicit reference to not coming to mine to hook up tonight. That’s one good thing; she knew the connotations of going back with me. I’ve obviously heard similar objections many times, with varied outcomes. This time it sounds like it falls in the “it’s-not-just-a-shit-test” category. Maybe it’s down to the lack of solid prep work I’ve done on the “togetherness” frame.

At this point, instead of taking a step back, I for whatever reason decide to go on the front foot. I lightheartedly sidestep the “we’re not hooking up” objection, and then begin to run my mouth, sales style. I ramble on, scramble her RAS, sneak one past the goalie (Karisma King and Todd V terms, respectively), and generally try to bamboozle her. I somehow end up persuading her to come back to mine anyway, under the primary reason that “I want to educate you on some actual good books to read” (she’s really into poetry and reading). Soon we’re grabbing our coats and heading out into the light rain, making the two minute walk back to mine. Quite how I’ve got her to change her mind, I don’t know.

In hindsight, and with the benefit of knowing that she wasn’t super-comfortable at mine after, I’m now certain I misplayed this part. I should have sat back, ordered us another drink, built some stronger foundations, then heated her up before attempting again. She wasn’t fully ready and I was lucky she gave me another chance right away. Time in set should be my ally, and unless she was explicitly telling me she had to go back to her mother, I should’ve just chilled, warmed her up, and waited for a more favourable moment.

Back at mine, and after grabbing wine from the kitchen, we’re in my room and she’s appearing very awkward. I always prefer for the girl to remove her coat and shoes of her own volition. However, Angela’s still got them on and hasn’t picked up on my subtle hints to remove them. She’s also on her feet shuffling about self-consciously. I say to her: “feel free to tread your wet shoes all over my nice wooden floor, why don’t you!” in a teasing way, and she apologises before slipping off the shoes. At this point I decide to grab a coathanger and guide her towards removing the coat too. Job done with the shoes and coat.

There follows a slightly uncomfortable two minutes where she’s visibly umming and ahing about whether or not to have sex with me and I’m trying to distract her forebrain. It later turns out in the post-sex interview that she’s usually less sober in these situations. Again, I think more time spent in the pub, with perhaps more booze too, would’ve smoothed the process. However, the ride is never completely smooth and I’m doing my part by attempting to pattern-interrupt any worrying thoughts she has. I’m casually showing her my books, talking about music, and trying to sidetrack her “I’m a sluuuuuut” forebrain. But nothing too “jerky” from me, though–still playing it cool.

Eventually I hit upon something more sticky (heh). She spots a Hemingway book and seems to relax when asking me about it. She then spots Lolita and tells me it’s one of her favourites. We do a deep dive on Nabokov’s intentions with the novel. I make sure to challenge her views, and she loves it.

A pretty handy book to have lying around in my room for this girl to stumble upon

I find it amusing that Angela seems more at ease following our conversation about a middle-aged man and his love affair with his 12-year-old stepdaughter. Deep rapport and familiarity/unity over any topic can be strong. As we’re sat closer on the bed, I’m stroking her back. She now seems to logically accept that sex is going to happen, even verbalising things like “I’m totally sober. This is a new experience for me“. We kiss a bit, we don’t rush things, and soon after we’re fumbling around on the bed undressing each other. It’s one-way traffic from this point and my second new lay in two days is in the books.

Post sex interview:

  • she’d never had a sober ONS before [3]. Some girls just need booze to override their forebrain and to give them permission.
  • she mentioned that, before coming to the date, she didn’t know exactly what to expect. She seemed to draw a distinction between this date, where she’d met the guy during the day, and an online Tinder date, which she saw as an organised hook-up. Perhaps that’s just her, or perhaps I just didn’t make it clear enough where this one was headed earlier in the interaction. Either way, this is just one data point. Other girls have known exactly where it’s heading.
  • she told me she’s been with around 15 guys in her life. And that they have been a mix of guys at gigs and pubs, friends from her social circle, and online dates. Pretty standard.

This lay capped off a great couple of days for me. I’d managed to squeeze in two sexcessful dates with two very different girls, and just before the Christmas break too. It also rounded off a great first year of approaching girls during the daytime.

As always, thanks for reading. Hopefully lots more to come!

Jamie.

[1] An outer game workshop that TT was filming in the back of the Hippodrome Casino. It’s my understanding that Tom will be releasing it as a product sometime. Some good outer game techniques and lines for a player’s toolkit.

[3] Public Displays of Affection. I generally avoid them anyway though, and prefer for a continued and lengthened build-up of sexual tension.

[3] We’d only had three drinks, and they were only spirit-and-mixers, two of which were singles.

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The Forgotten Girl, Part II: Date Roulette

Who are you again?

I often have trouble remembering new girls’ faces. It gets me into all sorts of trouble. Like when meeting for a first date in a busy place. Or when inadvertently re-approaching a girl in a club. Or when joining a girl at the hostel breakfast table, thinking she’s the girl I had sex with the night before (true story). And apparently I also find it difficult to remember who a girl is from her WhatsApp profile picture, when she messages out of the blue and I didn’t note down her name after the initial set.

In my previous post, I said I was 95% sure who my date was with this evening (Sunday). I knew her name, I knew I’d approached her two weeks earlier, and I knew that in her picture she really looked like the girl I thought (and hoped!) she was. Well, I was right to be only part-sure… because she turned out to be someone completely different! I ended up turning up to the date and meeting a different girl I’d also number-closed two weeks ago, and who I’d also completely forgotten about…

The date was originally scheduled for 4pm. It was now 4.30pm, and we were both behind schedule. I finesse the last-minute messaging and ensure I arrive two minutes after her. Rolling up to the meeting point, I always try to call the girl and get her on the phone. As I stroll up to find her, she gets to hear my voice. And I get to hear her voice…

And so it was at this point, 20 metres away from the Tube station, that I don’t hear an Irish fashion student’s voice on the other end of the phone at all. I suddenly hear a familiar South African girl’s voice answer the phone. My mind started to scramble. So who was this?? Fortunately my voice didn’t betray me as I continued walking and carrying the conversation to meet this currently-unknown, likely-South African girl. Then I saw her, holding the phone to her ear. Five-foot-four, curvy body but tight waist, big bright eyes, brunette hair, cheeks with dimples. Looking directly at me with a big, beaming smile as we continued talking on the phone. Very cute appearance.

Oh shit! It all came back to me in that moment. It was the smart-ass South African au pair living in South West London. I’d met her on the Strand, with Mr S watching from across the street. She’d had great verbal wit for a girl with limited life experience (she was only 19), but she seemed to follow the social norm a bit too much. She also wasn’t very compliant in the original set, and she had immediately labelled me as a player, as well as exhibiting K-selected traits and judgements [1].

But it appeared that perhaps I’d left more of an impression on her than I had initially thought. After all, she’d broken convention and had messaged me first, totally out of the blue. And she’d ventured out of her way to meet me in Angel. And she sure was looking chirpy this evening. Was this unlikely girl actually on?

I had my answer 30 seconds later. And unfortunately it wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.

“So I only have until 6pm and then I need to head to Wembley arena for a Christmas Carol concert.” Big expectant smile.

Me: “Errrm…okay.” Deadpan poker face.

Anyway, it was still a fun date–all dates are. And I’m sure there were some lessons I took from it. For one, I got to practise my under-escalate-and-disqualify strategy for when I know the lay isn’t on. I’ve sure messed up in the past, over-heating the girl and not focusing on the main goal: which is to set up strong foundations for a Day 3.

So after 90 minutes or so, we say our goodbyes at the station. At this point I’m not sure whether I want to see her again or not–on one hand she’s girly and attractive, but on the other I stick to my initial impression that she’d be a pain in the arse over many dates. Or maybe she’s seen enough of me anyway, and is ready to move on herself. But whatever the case, 30 seconds later I’ve put all this to the back of my mind and am busy opening a Colombian girl who has her legs on show in the pouring rain [2], for my fourteenth and final set of the week.

As a last remark, I was actually quite close to having this date filmed at very late notice. It didn’t happen though, which wasn’t the end of the world given the short duration of the date. But I would like to get an extended date on camera–I think the learning points would be massive [3]. Maybe next time… 

Jamie.

[1] It was probably these K-selected traits which put me off messaging her, because I certainly found her attractive. I’m pretty lazy at following up with leads when my gut tells me they won’t go anywhere.

[2] Coincidently, I ended up number-closing her at a bus stop just 20 seconds from where I’d previously met another Colombian girl four months ago. And with that one I went on to get my Colombian flag–a good omen!

[3] Plus I’d have a cool trophy if it were a sexcess.

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