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.


[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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New Year, Same Mistakes

I haven’t been gaming much this year, but when I have, it’s been fun. Work has been v busy and daygame has provided a welcome distraction. At the weekend, I’ve been carefree and enjoying going out with my wing to chat to girls. I’ve been experiencing little approach anxiety. However this has led to perhaps a few more mistakes being made both in-set and with leads. Most of these mistakes I’ve seen before.

Actually, I’d award myself a B based on early January efforts.

Not being physical in set

Even an arm tap, or an accoutrement-grab would do. Better still, moving the girl a foot or so “out of the way of the crowd”, starting to make progress up the compliance ladder. My wing “David” pointed this out the other day, when I was talking to an interested girl DIRECTLY IN A SHOP ENTRANCE in Liverpool Street station. C’mon Jamie, what better excuse!! Just move her aside. So simple! Think!!

Creepy-sounding, but effective.

Not being sexual enough in set

I’ve been neglecting this via the subcomms, and more directly via the verbals. Either way, I haven’t been adopting the mindset of a guy going out to get laid. I’m too busy being social and enjoying the regular banter. In a non-hectic nightgame environment (e.g. a lounge bar), where both you and the girl are both there for the next 30+ mins, you can afford to take your foot off the gas and let time do a lot of your work. But in a short set during the day, you need to convey everything in those short few minutes! Man up and let her know you want her, Jamie!!

Being a motormouth when things are going well

I’m actually pretty good at waffling on when I’m in a social mood. Sometimes too good. Especially when she’s hooked, I’ll often chat along, leaving her far behind. I did it the other day with a Romanian girl who didn’t even speak much English. Duuurrrrrrr!! Associated: speaking off-topic and too quickly.

Not future projecting the date

I had some success last year with future-planning when I was number-closing girls. It would also serve to ground the interaction. So why the f*&k am I not doing it this year?!!

And the biggest mistake of all…


This one should be criminal. FFS Jamie! Do you want to bang these girls or not!!

Sometimes I’ll tell myself to message the girl in the morning before work. Due to prolonged snoozing, I won’t find enough time: I’ll finally drag myself out of bed to shower, then dry off, get changed, and be out the door just like that. “But it’s ok” I’ll tell myself: I’ll just send a message at the office mid-morning when I get a break. That break invariably doesn’t come. At lunch I’ll nip out the office and grab some lunch in the city. However, I’ll be strolling around daydreaming and enjoying my brief freedom, without a worry in the world. I’ll even possibly get sidetracked by a YouTube charisma breakdown video or similar. Back at the office and I’ll suddenly remember: I was supposed to message Swedish Suzy, bah! Work in the afternoon is relentless and I’ll stay late to get some numbers finished. Before I know it, it’s 7.30pm and I’m stressed and beaten down from a long day at work. Leaving the office I finally fire off a quick reply, then regret it, immediately thinking of a better alternative reply. Fuck! Needless to say, the ensuing silence confirms she’s lost interest. And I’m back in Ghostville. Waaahhhh.

Anyway, mistakes aside, I’ve been doing lots of things well. And most important, I’ve been enjoying daygame. Over time, if I put in the time and am enjoying talking to new girls, the results will come.

Thanks for reading.


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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!


[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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LR: Rewind: My First Daygame Lay

I’ve been working some tiring hours this week. And with it being cold and rainy outside, I’ve been heading home straight afterwards. Sounds boring, right? Well, yes and no. This has given me the perfect opportunity to hole up and type up the LR of my first ever daygame lay. After all, momentous occasions such as these shouldn’t go unreported. Right, let’s go!

11 May 2018

Rewind back to earlier this year in Spring. Back when the sun was still making appearances and nighttime didn’t fall at 4.30pm. It was Friday evening and I’d just met my buddy outside his office in the City. The days were really lengthening now, and so we leisurely strolled in to central London, shooting the shit and looking to open any girls that took our fancy.

For the first time since I started daygaming I didn’t feel nervous travelling in to central London. After spending two weeks finding my daygame groove, I’d finally found some consistency. I’d done 40 sets in the last seven days–I’d finally caught the bug and was hitting the streets with regularity.

In addition to that, just the night before (on the Thursday) I’d been on a date with a legit 8.5. I’m pretty sure she’s the hottest girl I’ve ever been on a date with, even to this day. How my newbie daygame ability ever got her out, I’ll never know! Even though she didn’t accept the bounce-back to mine after two venues, I was still feeling pretty abundant.

Back to the Friday itself with my wing, and we’ve pretty much reached the end of Carnaby street now, opening one or two sets each up to this point. We’re now outside Pret a Manger. All of a sudden, to my right I spy a studenty-looking girl, wearing a black leather jacket and black skinny jeans, complete with black backpack. She’s a brunette and she’s a few inches shorter than me. I cut-off what I’m saying to my wing, spin around and front-stop her [1] before she can get away. I deliver my opener, directly and confidently, James Tusk-style (at least in my head it was).

Just add a daygamer, and tourist-with-backpack

She’s initially overwhelmed, but boy! is she holding eye contact well. Grinning and with eyes lit-up, she looks very in-the-moment and she gives every indication that talking to strangers is normal for her: a daygamer’s dream. She hits me with a sexy Spanish accent, and I vibe off that with some standard stacking and assumption-making. She seems content standing there with me, in the middle of Carnaby Street, with the busy Friday evening crowd passing by.

As I learn more about her, I imagine she would have been the hot alternative girl at college, who didn’t have many girl friends and instead hung out with the skater boys. I become more badass and ramp up the sub-communications. She seems unperturbed by my proximity and sexual undertones. She accepts the minor compliance of me moving in, and she’s holding my lusting eye contact.

Another minute together and she opens up verbally. This includes her becoming quite testy, which makes sense when I discover she’s a student lawyer, studying back in Spain. I also find out she’s only 20; she doesn’t bother asking my age. A promising sign. She goes on to explain that she’s been in London for a few days while on a break from uni. She decided to travel solo and explore London. Right now she’s going to attempt to find a place to eat in Chinatown, but apart from that doesn’t have any plans. Ding ding ding!!

At this point in the set, every man and his dog knows what to do: just stay with her, preferably leading, and then just don’t fuck up! Unfortunately, during the newbie stage of my daygame journey, I had success barriers, and would inexplicably make things hard for myself. So instead of doing the right thing, I take the easy way out: I number-close her and go back to my wing, even describing to him how “on” she seemed, but that “I didn’t want to join her for dinner in Chinatown“. DURRRRRR!!!! [2] I look back at this error now and hang my head in shame. “But I was just trying to get the sets in! I didn’t want to eat with her” I rationalised to myself afterwards. Damn, I must be gay or something… 

Four good-energy sets later, and I find myself sat in Subway at Charing Cross with my wing, trying not to make eye contact with him as he’s chomping away on a footlong. I begin to scroll through my WhatsApp contacts, searching for the two new numbers I’ve collected this evening. Up to this point I’m pretty much settled on making my way home, lying in bed, and reading, possibly with some Pornhub first. Then I locate the Spanish student lawyer in my contacts list. I see a small thumbnail pic and I have to do a double take. Wait…that can’t be… I view it full size. And my eyes nearly pop out.

It seems the corny black ninja line can work!

Well well well… what doooo we have here? There’s an awful lot of flesh showing in her profile pic. I’m taken aback. On one hand I’m immediately very horny, but on the other I’m thinking very logically through the social consequences of having this type of a profile pic: is her father on WhatsApp–can he see this picture? Is her grandma on WhatsApp? I show my wing, who first looks down at the picture, then up, and then back down again. We turn our heads towards each other and lock eyes in silence. My wing rests his eyelids and nods to me. I understand. And so I take my phone, and I begin typing a message. So many green lights from this girl already. I’ve really had the blinders on here. Can I claw my way back from the Island of Ignorance? Well, I have to at least try. And now. No more waiting. I also recall her saying in the set that she was leaving tomorrow. Why are you only realising the significance of this now?? Wake up FFS Jamie!! After pressing Send I sit there stewing, kicking myself for not manning up and idating her, while my wing teases relentlessly. Shit. Opportunities like this don’t come around every day. And this is an opportunity that has surely gone now.

Less than 15 minutes later I see a double message preview in my notifications:

“Im like”

“Super lost”

I read it outside of the app on my notifications screen. A smile slowly creeps across my lips. Back in the game…perhaps? I decide to wait a few mins before replying. Not too eager-beaver, now, Jamie. Then, before I get the chance to reply, she sends another:

“Nice to meet you too”

Soon after this one, I reply, attempting to find out where in the city she is on a buzzing Friday night. When she replies “Waterloo Station“, I realise she’s just the other side of the Thames from me, only two Tube stops away. Bingo. My wing prompts me to call her for efficiency. I go for it, but the signal is poor and all I can hear is a muffled voice on the other end.

I realise the window of opportunity has reopened, but it likely won’t remain that way for long. At this point I try to encourage her via WhatsApp to come to me at Charing Cross. There follows a very confused back-and-forth. She’s messaging in a frenzy and soon sucker-punches me with “I have to go to hostel“. At this point I open up the profile picture again. Not only the raw sexuality of her naked flesh, but also the fact that she’s willing to overstep social boundaries and post this picture for the world to see, spurs me on to pursue her and to not give up. I decide to travel to her. And immediately. This is my only chance. My wing wishes me good luck, and I start to move. To make sure I don’t lose Internet/4G connection, I decide to run across the Golden Jubilee footbridge to Waterloo. No Tube for this dashing Romeo, how romantic! [3]

I was frantically running across Golden Jubilee Bridge typing some of this

At Waterloo, she’s waiting for me under the giant clock in the middle, as requested. I’m out of breath and hardly bother hiding it–all that matters to me right now is that I’ve found her. She’s smiling but she seems in a bit of a state. I treat it like a re-approach, reminding myself that these things are never smooth, and I do the lion’s share of the talking.

Soon she’s at ease again, appearing more comfortable. And I’ve caught my breath. But we’re still stood under the clock in the middle of the concourse. And I still haven’t formulated a gameplan. Soon I’m forced to though, as she prompts: “So where are we going?” Her hostel is in Greenwich and I’m staying in a box room in a council estate flat in Shadwell. She’s mentioned about having to go back to her hostel to pack her bag a few times now. The good news is that Shadwell and Greenwich look close to each another on the Tube map. Both are on the DLR line. Given the green flags so far, and that she has to leave early in the morning, I decide on a Hail Mary:

“Since we’re both in South East London, let’s head in that direction for a drink. We can do my area or yours, but let’s do mine since it’s closer and it’s on the way anyway.”

The Waterloo & City line is still open and we first head to Bank, and then change for Shadwell on the DLR. In the train carriage she checks the tube map above my head to make sure I’m taking her to where I said I was. I casually ignore this and allow her to do her investigatory work. 

We get off at Shadwell DLR station and, with her appearing compliant and comfortable enough, I decide for the most direct strategy: straight back to mine. The pubs in the area are pretty dodgy, and on top of that I’m wearing a suit, which will make me stand out like a sore thumb. I grab wine from the corner shop, and am sure to be social with the chatty Bangladeshi guy behind the counter (I’ll take any opportunity to social-proof myself).

She’s still calm as we walk from the shop to my flat. My instincts appear to be on point so far: that a calibrated insta-pull can work with her. A few times I get the standard “How far is it?” and similar, but she’s not dragging her feet, and she’s keeping pace with me fine. During the walk back, through the forbidding back streets of East London, I reach for her hand and she accepts. These days I would be unlikely to hold hands en route during the pull, but looking back on the context (the dark, quiet streets in an unfamiliar neighbourhood), it may have actually been the “right move”.

Back at mine, a shared council estate flat in Shadwell, there’s a kitchen but no other communal rooms. In the kitchen I pour out two glasses wine. This turns out to be a pointless exercise as she decides to inform me (only at this point) that she doesn’t drink [4]. We then climb the stairs to my box room. Still no freaking out from her.

Up until this point, minus my initial errors of ejecting from the original set and also not messaging her sooner, it had been relatively smooth-sailing. I had her pegged as DTF and I really couldn’t believe my luck.  However, my fortunes were about to change.

Not your typical Venue One. My box room in Shadwell

In the close quarters of my room, which was barely wide enough to fit the small double bed in, we sit on the bed and she wriggles her bum to the opposite end and sits there cross-legged. I play music on my laptop, which helps the vibe, but unfortunately there’s no mood lighting–the main ceiling light is very bright and sobering. Okay, I can work with this I think. She’s just getting acquainted. Then comes something I can’t work with: she takes her phone out of her bag…and it’s blowing up with notifications.

Her face comes alive with excitement and she giggles away. She’s working through a backlog of 50-minutes-worth of missed messages and notifications. Every now and then she releases a shrill of laughter as something really tickles her. I had forgotten for a moment that she was a hot girl, who of course would have friends and wannabe lovers hitting her up on a Friday night.

She pays me minimal attention as she types messages, sends (and receives) voice notes (in Spanish), and watches her friends’ IG and Snapchat stories. Occasionally she fills me in with some small commentary about who the friend is and what is just so interesting about their conversation.

From what I could gather, I was dealing with three remote cockblocks:

  • her best girl friend–who was back in Spain. They were sending voice notes back-and-forth without delay, and my beginner Spanish told me they were discussing the-girl’s-and-my situation, as well as the-friend-and-her-boyfriend’s situation. Both of them found everything hilarious, tittering away in their voice notes.
  • an orbiter from Spain who she was messaging. She took great delight in telling me about him and how he had been pining over her.
  • a guy staying at her hostel in London who she’d met only that morning. He was messaging and trying to get her out. She told me that he was offering to pay for her taxi and club entrance. Shit! I desperately prayed he was a chode.

For one hour I had been feigning indifference and pretending to be busy on my laptop while engaging with her every now and then. Patience is usually a good Plan A in these situations, and I’d had plenty of experience playing waiting games before. Putting myself in her shoes, I figured she still wasn’t ready to give herself to me just yet–she had so much abundance at that moment and had been reaching astronomical levels of validation. She would surely want to hold on to the hot-girl-high for as possible.

One high-risk solution

A couple of times I tested the water, by gently sliding over, prodding her leg and teasing, or similar. Not much success with that though. She refused to comply with other minor requests, such as “come here, I want to see that” (*pats bed position for her to move to*). With each failed request my social capital fell. Also working against me was the lack of kino up till this point. She wasn’t a particularly touchy-feely person. She was very comfortable around me, but not so comfortable touching me. I didn’t have much of a launchpad to work off.

To get an alternative viewpoint in these kind of situations, I often ask myself: what would Derek do? I’ve met RSD Derek four times now, and he’s quite simply the frame master. Whatever he says, goes. He wouldn’t let a girl get away with this “disrespectful” behaviour, and she would know it. However, I wasn’t Derek. I was too invested. I could try to go nuclear on her, but I wanted this first daygame lay so badly. And so, perhaps predictably, I discounted the nuclear option!

Just as my patience was truly starting to wear thin (and I was considering throwing her phone out the window), she exclaimed to me that her best friend (the one she’d been sending voice notes to) had just just gone to bed. Hallelujah!! Praise the Lord! She acted mock-sad, and then all at once she diverted her attention back to me.

Eye contact was back. Full spoken sentences were back. And even some kino was back. We were sat closer together on the bed. After a little time I tested for the kiss. Playful tease rejection from her as she turns her head. Should have seen that one coming–too predictable Jamie! At this point I realise that two can play at this game, and with her phone now out of sight (and out of mind) I go into full seduction and tease mode. I move in for the ear. Whisper up close: “I just wanted to tell you a secret“. Nibble earlobe. Kiss the neck softly. Then bite it gently. I “drive-by” the lips and try to encourage her to escalate on me too. She’s definitely interested again and eventually we give up the game and kiss.

Soon after this, and with our time-since-entering-my-flat approaching three hours, the sexual tug-of-war is over, and I’m putting a condom on [5] before entering her. And at that point I realise that my first daygame lay is in the books. We only have one round–she’s not bothered about cumming and says she needs to get back to her hostel to pack her bag. I’m fine with that and order her an Uber. 

Uber driver’s game: “You’re beautiful”

As usual after any lay, I’m buzzing and replaying all the steps back in my mind. I write out a skeleton outline of a lay report (which became this post) and smile to myself. I was right to enjoy this one, because for the next month or so I was cursed with LMR!


[1] Undoubtedly at this stage my front-stop would’ve been jerky and uncalibrated. Even to this day, I haven’t mastered it.

[2] I really should have been punished for this mis-step. A simple-but-excellent nightgame rule is to just stay in set. However, it took me a while till I was applying it to daygame.

[3] Or desperate.

[4] No wonder she turned her nose up at the various alcohol options available at the corner shop.

[5] This little madam seemed more than happy to do it raw. But probably best to wrap up for this one, I thought.

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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… 


[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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The Forgotten Girl

I hope it’s not too good to be true

I’m too relaxed with leads. I must’ve assumed that this one, a flirty set with a fashion student two weeks ago, was too high energy and that she would flake. That, or my poor memory was just cock-blocking me. Either way, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t follow up.

Anyway, she messaged me yesterday out of the blue. The DTF-o-meter rang out a shrill alarm. But first I had to do a deep dive into my memory to remember exactly who she was. I was 95% sure I knew, which was exciting because the girl was hot, young, and cheeky.

However, her asking to meet up last night was terrible timing. First, I’d arranged to meet ex-colleagues for our annual catch-up and Xmas meal, and, second, a regular was supposed to be popping over later for a booty call. The booty call was flakeable, but the Xmas meal wasn’t…

A true degenerate would’ve cleared his schedule whatever the plans, but apparently I still have some work to do in that department. Fortunately though, the Daygame Gods have given me another chance. I’ve set up what appears to be a decent opportunity for some Sunday seduction. So let’s see what tomorrow will bring.


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