It’s been a month or so since I’ve done any Game. I’ve been ill a few times and busy. I head out Saturday and try a new part of London. I weasel two sets then don’t see a single other one the whole day. My AA feels enormous. I feel like I’m restarting daygame at ground zero. I don’t beat myself up though…. I’ve had a nice walk and have at least gotten out the house and showed willing.
On Sunday I head out and warm up on a few tiny Asians. Poof! My AA almost disappears. I suddenly feel like this is fun again. I enjoy walking about. I start to rack up a few sets. It’s getting late and I’ve done ten: I’m really pleased with my day, despite getting no leads. My eleventh set isn’t great. When I open the girls says “are you just trying to make conversation?”. I answer “yes” and smile and she delightedly says “well you have not succeeded!” and walks off. LOL.
I’m by Oxford circus and spot a fairly tall, lean girl with a stylish coat and stylish hair striding along. I stalk her for a minute: not a great move at all, but I’m still a bit weasely. At one point she actually sees me from the corner of her eye. This is normally the death-knell as getting all geeky “you are now in her RAS” and girls have a circuit in the brain which records all men in their peripheral vision and places them on a ‘potential rapist’ list; thus if you open them they feel disquiet and it never goes as well as if they’ve never seen you (unless of course you deliberately get their attention or force an IOI, Jabba-style).
I open anyhow. It’s a bit hammy but I tell her she’s very stylish and I’m a little shy to talk to her. She smiles beamingly. Her eyes glow and smoulder. She STEPS CLOSER to me to close the distance, stares in my eyes and tells me “it’s ok… you are doing VERY well… please.. please continue”.
HOLY FUCK. THIS IS A YES-GIRL.
It’s all I can do to not punch the air. I recognize the much sought after Yes-girl look. They’re rarer than diamonds in Minecraft but I’ve found one. I chat to her for a few minutes and suggest a coffee. She says it would be too weird. I ignore it and we start chatting again. She then stops, says ‘what the hell! let’s get that coffee!’ TOUCHES MY ARM and we walk off.
We’re in the coffee bar and I’m following Krauser’s model. I don’t try and sit next to her. We sit opposite each other in a well lit table. I don’t hit on her. I run comfort to bed her in. I sprinkle in neo-DHVs, just (truthful) anecdotes about my life to show how interesting and colourful I am, or I run some intellectual or creative mastery on her. It all works.
Dates are like boxing matches. All theory goes out of your head. Unless something is burned in you can’t access it. I do my toilet-trick and excuse myself. In the toilet I try to quell my hysteria and work out a strategy.
Is it on?
What should I do?
Bounce. Bouce to pub.
Then what. Escalate? Go for SDL? Take details?
Importantly I’ve already scanned for logistics and know she is only in town for 2 more days. I need to act fast. I decide to escalate in venue 2 and push for the SDL. It seems on.
We move to the pub. She sits right up next to me with leg contact. Despite us both boasting about our healthiness in the coffee bar and how little we drink this is quietly mutually forgotten about. She asks to try English beer, offers to buy me one and comes back with two pints of Adnams. I look at the fact this girl is now drinking a pint, and fast and think:
she’s seeking plausible deniability = she wants cock
I’m ill with excitement. The chat continues and the pints are gone. She asks for another. I feverishly text Krauser:
idate… she just agreed to pint #2!!
I decide to make my move. Last year Making My Move was the hardest part of Game. Now it’s easy. I just have a very basic template to follow:
1) Decide if it’s on. If it is…
2) Ask a few escalation questions while giving her eye-mesmer
3) Pull her in and try and kiss her
4) Repeat at least six times until success
I make her describe to me what English guys are like. She talks about my virtues for five minutes and actually, I shit you not, says “everything you say is beautiful”. At an appropriate moment I pull her in and kiss her.
She’s an animal. She slips off her stool and flops full body against me, pressing against me. She starts moaning and clawing at my head with her hands. She’s biting and sucking my lips. This is one of the most flagrant examples of a girl passing The Flop Test (see Tom Torero’s book) I’ve ever encountered.
I heat her up a little. I stay clear of her tits but can’t help an ass-grope. Let me now remind you that I did not succeed in fucking this girl. This was one of the first mistakes.
I remember to push her away a little. I tease her. I call her a slug and then start sprinkling her with salt. She loves it.
I go to the toilet to plan my next move. I decide to bounce to venue 3, escalate then go for an extraction back to mine.
We walk in the rain to the next pub and it’s all flowing well. She’s on the adventure of her life. She can’t believe it and is euphoric. I run comfort and banter. I push her in one doorway and roughly snog her a bit.
In the next pub I’m delighted to find a little sofa tucked near a fire-door and out of sight of the rest of the pub.
To my egotistical inner delight she describes me as ‘very mysterious’. I give her some mystery and wow her by weaving stories about the old photographs on the walls into the Dickens book I’m reading and my own life. Now and again I pull her in and we make out. This is where I start to go wrong. Basically she is now very horny. She starts escalating me. Every time we snog she writhes onto my lap and starts moaning. She’s trying to dry-hump me subtly. This girl is begging for it. I can’t help indulging myself. I stick my hand down her pants and squeeze her ass. I stick my hand down her top and start flicking her nipples. She’s in heaven and desperate. I pull her tit out and start sucking it, there and then. Five feet away, but hidden by the stairs are a table of omega warcraft nerds sitting talking about Magic The Gathering. I’m inwardly delighted by this, it really adds spice to the tit-sucking.
I calm it down a little and go to extract. “Let’s head to the next place” I say. She doesn’t move. She looks stone-faced. She knows the next venue is sex. She won’t go. The train has started to come off the tracks. I remember Nick’s book and we sit back down and I lather her with as much comfort as possible. Then I try to extract again. She starts to move but asks where the next place is. I innocently suggest heading to drink some wine at my amazing house (which I’ve already pre-seeded). She isn’t having it. She decides to go back to her hotel. Fuck.
I’ve already made damn sure earlier on to ask if she’s staying alone, remembering Krauser losing a lay for not asking this very question. I plan a final, desperate move in the taxi. I explain my bus stop is right beside her hotel (it actually is) and I will just get the bus. I get out then ask if she wouldn’t mind me using her toilet. Seriously. That’s all I can think of. She tells me that her colleague is travelling with her and he’s a jealous middle-eastern type, and so is her boss, and he’s actually in the room next to her. It would be a major deal if they overhear her being, say, screwed in the arse. She tells me I can use the toilet in reception. Fuck. I do so, we then exchange emails and I split.
I’m not actually that gutted at all. In fact I’m chuffed: I’ve just had A Daygame Adventure and well, hell, sucked a girls tits in a pub three hours after meeting her.
Me and K have a debrief later and I realize that I had far more chance of fucking her IN THE PUB than in the hotel and having overcooked her that much should have basically just tried a classy Toilet Fuck.
I add her to Facebook after a few days and she immediately accepts. I haven’t even messaged her and a day later I notice I’m unfriended. I roll off for a week then ping an email: nothing.
Crash and burn. This cake has well and truly been overcooked.