3 weeks under a microscope



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PostPosted: Mon Mar 10, 2008 4:20 am 
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Here’s your warning: this will take around 15 minutes to read. Writing is therapeutic for me. I was going to write it anyway, so I figure I may as well post it in case someone wants to give advice too. It starts slow, but picks up later on. I bolded areas that I think are most open to advice. If you’re only going to read one part of it, stick to the girl I mention at the very end, or give me strategies for re-engaging Pixie on my return trip to Montreal. Those are the situations I feel most in doubt.

So I discovered this little world a couple months ago. Ironically, it was a girl who I had major one-itis for who indirectly introduced me to it (she studies NLP and mentioned she knew some pick-up artists who use it). I have a habit of taking my sweet time when I get into new stuff, and the world of pick-up is no different. After a month or so, I went to the mall for my first sarging mission. I worked on body language and poise and all that. I saw a few approachable sets but chickened out each time. Baby steps right? I procrastinate for another couple weeks before I go sarging again. Same result as before. Total n0ob.

I soon learn that I'm scheduled to go to Montreal for business, which is where I am now as I write this part. Well fuck, everyone has fun in Montreal right? I pinpoint this two week period in February as where my turnaround has to happen.

The week starts off slowly. There are some pretty girls working in my client's office, but I don't really have a reason to talk to any of them. My second night here I go to Baton Rouge for dinner. I sit down by myself at the bar and decide I'm going to practice a little on the hired guns there. I strike up conversations with the bartender (6), hostess (8) and one of the waitresses (9). The waitress responds best to me. I ask about all the pens she's carrying and then go from there with other silly questions. I make an absurd claim that I've never lost a pen in my life. She digs it.
The next night I go for dinner at a boring souvlaki place. Afterwards I decide to go back to Baton Rouge to watch the last half of the Leaf game. There's a new bartender (8) there tonight. After watching her zip around the bar for a while I stop her at one point:

"I like your tie, you look very handsome"

At this point I'm wondering if that was my first official neg. She chuckles and starts into a thing about how they're changing the tie and the uniforms soon. Back to work. Things quiet down around the bar. I get up to go to the bathroom and when I come back, I notice there's been a cute 3-set sitting behind me the whole time. I chicken out and don't approach. As I sit back down at my stool, I wonder how to set a false time constraint in that situation anyway... "Hey girls I need to get your opinion on something, but I can only stay a couple minutes as I have to get back to my stool 5 feet to your left."

The HB8 bartender comes back to me later and says something like "you're not from around here, are you?” We talk for a few minutes about Montréal and Toronto and various other topics. Soon she extends her hand to introduce herself. Our names are almost the same, off by only one letter, and she seems to get a kick out of that. We talk for another few minutes. She extends her hand again for a second shake as she bids me adieu to get back to work.

Somewhere along the way I pick up that she has a boyfriend. Oh well.

On Friday night, my client wants to go for drinks after work. They suggest Baton Rouge because it's close. The HB8 is working there again. She smiles and greets me by name. When I order, I use the old "Which do you prefer bud or coors light? Bud? Ok, give me a Coors Light then" thing. Her face lights up in amusement. It's really busy though and I don't get another chance to talk to her. My work chums and I don't stay long. They have to get back home to their families and I have to go manufacture some fun for myself.

Mission #1 - Friday Night

I get back to my hotel and try to get pumped up. I go down to the weight room and bust out some massive sets of squats. I wail away on the punching bag a little bit. Back in my room, I crank Nine Inch Nails through my crappy little laptop speaker. I shower up and decide what I should wear. I decide on matching black dress pants and dress shirt. I have no idea if this is a good look for me, but I gotta choose something. Soon I'm out the door and on my way to Crescent Street downtown.

Now I've never ridden on the Metro in Montreal so I don't know exactly where I'm going. In fact, I deliberately avoided researching this part before I left so that I'd be forced to ask someone. I wander down to the subway platform and blankly stare at a map, trying to get my bearings. Following close behind me is a dude accompanied by two girls, a HB8 and a HB9. I stop them to ask and they're very helpful and friendly. We end up chatting and riding together until I reach my stop. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way a division happened where I end up exclusively talking to the dude while the girls have a separate conversation with each other. I make a mental note to try to avoid this in the future.

I reach the party district and begin wandering around. Looking around, my first thought is that I'm overdressed. Dammit! I'm uncomfortable from the start. My first stop is the hard rock cafe. I have a quick beer and leave. Not much happening there. I'm starving so I go find a restaurant.

I have dinner at a place that brews its own beer. I run cocky/funny on the bartender the whole time and I get her to teach me some French. As I leave, the alcohol is starting to affect me a little bit. One more stop before I go to a club, I tell myself.

If you've never heard of Wanda's, it's a higher-end strip club in Montreal. I'd been told that visiting it was a must. With my first step in, it's easy to see why. 80% of the girls look like A-list pornstars. The rest are fuckable on their worst day. What I'd planned as a 20 minute side trip, turned into a 90 minute write-off.

When I leave, for reasons I'm still unsure of, I decide it's time to go home. Lame.

Mission #2 - Saturday night

With lasts nights failure still fresh in mind. I'm a little uneasy while I get ready to head out again. I settle on jeans and a navy blue form-fitting collarless long-sleeve shirt that my little sister got me as a gift. I trust her judgment. The shirt is good in that it shows off a bit of muscle definition, but not to the point that I'm obviously trying to squeeze into something super-tight. I look in the mirror. Completely ordinary looking. I pull my chain out and hang it on the outside of the shirt. That's my peacock I guess.

I hop off the Metro near the club district and look for a place to eat. I come across a classy restaurant that looks not-too-bad. I walk in and I have a small epiphany. Pushing the front door open, my body is slouched, my eyes are looking down, my lips are pressed together, and it occurs to me that I really suck at entering a new room. I think it's a confidence issue. It's like I feel everyone is watching me and that I'll screw up as I enter this foreign place. In the split second that I think this, I correct it immediately. I straighten up, look the HB7 hostess in the eyes and confidently ask for a seat at her bar. She whisks me off and finds me a seat, shows me the menu, touches my arm, and gives a meal recommendation. I pretend to be reluctant to trust her:

"Alright, I guess I'll try the ribs... if I don't like them though, I'm holding you responsible"

She's cute; I talk to her a few more times over the night. She spots that I'm from out of town as well. I must look really out of place here. The bartender is also an HB7. I test out an opener on her later on in the night. It goes like this:

"I have this buddy, he's 26 years old, and unfortunately he's always been really shy around girls. He'd never had a girlfriend until 6 months ago when he finally met someone. Now they already want to move in together. Does that sound like it might be a bad idea?" Then depending on the response: "Should I say anything to him?"

It's a true story so it's easy for me to tell naturally. Seems like I'm also DHV'ing in a way because I'm implicitly showing that I'm NOT shy and that I've had girlfriends before myself.


The HB7 thinks it through, asks some pretty thoughtful questions and seems genuinely interested in the topic. The opener is workable I decide. Time to go.

I want a little kick in me before I hit the strip so I head over to a nearby Second Cup for some coffee. What happens next is probably what you'd call the turning point for me. As I wait in line, I spy 3 young girls at a table. They're 8's, with one of them bordering on a 9. They look to be in their early 20's. As I sit there in line thinking, I realize I am a total fucking loser if I don't try this one. They're just sitting there text messaging and looking bored. A seat is open. I have to pass them on my way out anyway. It's basically a spoon-fed opportunity.

As I walk towards them a little voice in my head is pushing me on "You're doing it! You're doing it!". What's about to take place is truly significant for me because:
1) This is my first "true" approach
2) The girls were hot on a level that would normally intimidate me
3) It was in a crowded coffee shop where others could no doubt hear the exchange, and therefore be first-hand witnesses if I fail

In a semi-serious tone: "Do any of you girls carry mace?"


They trade confused looks. "No", one of them says.

I feign relief and sit down with them smiling. More confused looks. WTF! Maybe the joke went over their heads. They'll laugh at it later I tell myself. It's a good line dammit! I mutter a false time constraint quickly, but I don't think I get the message across. "Don't worry about it, just keep going!" my little voice tells me. I go off into the opinion bit about my buddy moving in with his girlfriend. At first I see them trading a look with each other with the unspoken message "Why the heck is this random guy asking us this?” It doesn't last though and soon they're into it. I was pleased by how fast the apparent weirdness of the situation dissipated once we got going.

At one point while I'm talking, I become conscious of a buzzing noise. I look down and see a cell phone vibrating around in a slow circle in front of me. "Did you want me to get this?" I ask the girl across from me as I slowly reach for it. She giggles and quickly answers her phone while the other two muse about how they didn't even notice it. I make a cocky joke about my outstanding abilities of observation. We start into fluff talk for a bit. Though things seem to be going well, I decide not to get too greedy and I eject on a high note. I suspect I'm going to run out of interesting things to say soon and I don't want to have one of those moments where everyone stares at each other going "Yep..." uncomfortably.

I assess the situation when I leave. I should have stayed longer. I should have paid less attention to the HB9 to my left and more to the HB8 sitting across from me. I should have had more canned material. I should have kino'd. Still, I'm satisfied. What the fuck have I been worried about all this time?

On to Crescent street

I walk into a busy place with a bar upstairs and a club downstairs. I check my coat, hit the john, and then grab a beer. I'm a tad bit nervous, but I don't think it's noticeable. I strut around a bit. I try to warm up by talking to someone, anyone. Two guys are standing against a wall. What's up guys? Did you watch the hockey game? They give very cold one-word answers while staring forward. Oooooooooook. I gain a little more confidence when I remind myself that at least I'm not like those two.

Another pass of the bar and I suddenly spy potential targets. Two HB7's are standing there together sipping their drinks. 3-second rule... big smile, hey ladies! Big smiles back. I bust into my 'should they move in?' opinion opener again. They had the French Canadian accents and at one point I gave them the "You talk funny!" neg. They ate that up. I left on good terms with the excuse that I had to go find my friend.

Wandering around some more, I befriend a couple of guys with Canadiens jerseys on sitting by the bar with their beer. They're good ole' boys, and we talk hockey for 5 or 10 minutes.

I head downstairs to check out the club portion, but the bouncer won't let me in because I'm wearing sneakers. Fuck off! While Friday night I felt over-dressed, on Saturday night I suddenly now feel under-dressed.

I get back on track and head back to the bar and spy a young HB8 standing by herself near the stairs. She has a tongue-ring and a mischievous smile. I talk to her normally and find that she lives in Toronto too and that she's visiting Montreal with her brother. The brother soon comes over and introduces himself. He's a good guy and is completely unfazed that there's some dude potentially hitting on his little sister. In a good natured way he busts my balls on a few things. I bust him back. They're both cool, and I come back to hang out with them multiple times over the course of the night.

Next I come across a 4-set of 30-somethings, 3 girls and 1 guy (I know I know, the bar has an older clientele than I initially thought). I open with a friendly hello and we go from there. Two of the girls are giving me plenty of kino, while the 3rd one just sits at the bar and acts bored. Somewhere along the way I win the man over as he starts patting me on the back and telling me I'm a good guy. I return the favour by giving him a good punch in the gut.

This group is actually quite fun to chat with. I try running my very first ESP test on one of the girls which ended up being kind of funny:
I write down 37 on my notepad
Me: "Give me a number between 1 and 4 quick!"
Her: "Ok, got it!"
Me: "Well what is it??"
Her: "3" (Sweet!)
Me: "Ok, now give me a number between 1 and 10, quick!"
Her: "13!" (Everyone laughs)
Me: (I playfully shove her) "That's not between 1 and 10!"
Her: "Oh! Ok, umm, 3!"

I reveal that I'm half right, and we share more chuckles. Next I try the best friends test on them. Again this is material that I haven't tried. I botch it but fall ass-backwards into success anyway. When I asked what kind of shampoo they both used, they both end up using the same one so they laugh hysterically and I luck out. They didn't seem to notice that I made no attempt at guessing how long they were friends, but obviously that's not the point. I decide to go wandering again, but I get one of them to kiss me on the cheek first.

I spy a HB7 cutie in her late 20's sitting by herself so I start talking to her. She's from Toronto too. The boyfriend shows up a minute later and shakes my hand. She seems too good for him. Maybe he’s got good game himself. They're both friendly and we chat for a while.
I meet back with Tongue-ring and her brother. Conversation hits a lull so I ran the move-in story on them. The brother has a good laugh at the whole thing and makes fun of my friend mercilessly while Tongue-ring playfully teases me that I'm jealous and wishes he was my boyfriend instead. It's all good, I play along that I'm gay and give her lots of kino in the process.


It seems like the music is getting louder every minute. I begin to realize that my effectiveness seems to go down with the more commotion and noise there is.

Next there's a 3-set sitting at a table in the middle of the bar. Two HB7's and a 2. I saddle up in between the HB7 and 2 and start talking. The bosley 2 takes to me right away, and is quite flirty. But uh oh, after a minute or so, I lose the HB7's and now it's just me and this wildebeast 1-on-1. I don't know how to renew interest from the whole group so at the first lull in conversation, I eject awkwardly, gliding away from the table backwards, eyes darting side to side like a cartoon character slinking away from a weird situation.


Next I come across a 2-set. Both are around my age, the one is a HB7, the other might be an HB8 but I can't quite tell because she's hiding her face behind a napkin (?!?). A tiny bit of fluff talk and I bust into the move-in opinion opener again. Soon I find out the HB8 needs to sneeze but it's not coming out (haha!). No idea what to say to this. I tell them they talk funny. It's gold again. I excuse myself and tell them to enjoy their night and that I'll see them again though unfortunately I never do.

Incidentally there's another opinion opener I'd like to try that leads into a true DHV story. The first part is familiar: "Would you be ok with your boyfriend having dinner with his ex?". This can lead into my story where I was supposed to have dinner with my ex-fiancée but her husband wouldn't let her. From my experience, mentioning that you've been engaged seems to strike positive chords (and it's true, I HAVE been engaged). I never do try this opener however, as I'm wary about the pronouns getting mixed up and confused.

I come across a HB7 and 3 sitting together. Initiating conversation, the HB7 is looking away like she's shy. I find out from the 3 that the HB7 doesn't speak English at all. This conversation doesn't last long.

I become conscious that I look weird wandering around the bar. The place wasn't huge, basically just a moderately sized figure-8. I retraced my steps quite a few times and sometimes it felt like I was just walking in circles passing the same people over and over.

Next is an HB8 and HB5 standing by the bar. The HB5 doesn't notice me so I talk to the HB8. She says something back to me that I don't understand. I say something else. The HB8 gets the HB5's attention and points at me. Turns out the HB8 doesn't speak English either. The HB5 tells me she'll translate. Don't know how to handle this. Quick ejection.

It's getting close to 1am and I figure it's time to try a new place. I go grab my coat and head back up to the bar. I see Tongue-ring standing by herself. Perfect! I didn't know how I was going to try for the number close if her brother was there. I tell her I'm on my way out but that I want to call her some time when we're back in Toronto. She smiles and points down to the big honkin' rock on her finger... engaged! I didn't think to look earlier; she seems so young and so flirty. Too bad. Still, I feel good that I asked.

On my way out I see the HB7's from the beginning of the night. I happily stop to talk to them again. They'd been down in the club. It occurs to me that these two girls have been standing next to each other in exactly this manner all night, just waiting to be approached. If I wanted to take one of these girls home, how could I even separate them without a wing? I briefly consider asking them if they want to come back for a threesome. Haha, not that brave yet.

It's frigid outside. I walk up and down the main strip. I'm self-conscious about my sneakers and don't want to line up for any of the clubs only to get turned away at the door. After 20 minutes of waffling, I realize my ears and fingers are becoming frostbitten and my normally proud dick is retreating into my body. Goddamn it. I'm tired anyway so I call it a night and hail a cab.

The night could have been better, but it also could have been a lot worse. The best thing is I seem to have overcome the AA hump that I've been stuck on. There's still tons of stuff to work on of course but at least now there's a foundation there to build on. I can take rejection easily; I just can't take not trying. I have to work on spotting genuine IOI's and then escalating. I have to not bail out so quickly.

The weekdays roll around again and I suspect my rather tame adventures are now over.

Not Quite. The tome continues.

On Monday evening I go looking for a restaurant to eat dinner. I find a rather posh steakhouse and cigar lounge and decide to try it out. I head towards the bar, as is my usual custom. My very existence there is an inherent DHV. There's something to be said about a 26-year-old eating a casual dinner at a $50/plate restaurant, even if the bill is going on an expense account.

The bartender turns out to be a tiny Asian girl with long hair (yes, ANOTHER bartender). When she speaks to me, I size her up. Solid HB8, no less. She possesses a thin little body, an angelic face, and a feminine sounding voice with the touch of a French Canadian accent. She's a little fairy spreading trails of pixie dust in her wake. She's adorable.

I don't run any gaming gimmicks on her. I stick to C/F joking with plenty of witty banter. This is my natural way actually. Well before I'd ever heard of pick-up artistry, I'd accidentally stumbled upon C/F. Pixie is easy to joke with and she laughs at everything.

I notice she keeps coming back to me to open conversation. Out of the blue she asks, "How did your Valentine’s Day go?” Interesting. That was four days ago. It's a huge IOI in my mind. I reciprocate. She sounds like she's single too. I'm asking this girl out, I think to myself.

Soon another girl arrives on the scene. She's the cigar room attendant. HB5. I start talking to her while ignoring the HB8 a little bit. She's flirty and I start to pick up some IOI's here too. At one point she asks me what I'm doing later tonight. I say I'm probably just going back to my hotel room to sleep. She stares at me for 5 seconds, expectantly. I change the subject. The HB5 comes back at various times over the night. She's likable, I enjoy talking to her, but she's just not for me.

As I'm finishing up my last beer, I ask Pixie out for a drink after she's finished work. She agrees without hesitation. The whole conversation is spoken matter-of-factly, like there was never any doubt in either mind and all we've done is made it official. She doesn't know exactly when she'll be able to get off so I leave my phone number and tell her to text me. I know I should have grabbed her number anyway, but ehhhh, I'm confident enough that she'll call.

I go home and shower and then try to take a nap. Pixie doesn't get off until around 11 and it's only 9. Well, 11pm rolls around and I haven't heard from her. 11:30. Midnight. I'm officially asleep shortly after.
The whole time I'm assessing the potential reasons. Maybe she lost the number. Perhaps my Blackberry isn't working right. I misplace some anger on Jim Balsillie for a bit. Maybe she never was interested to begin with and only accepted my invitation to be nice. Or maybe there are deeper psychological factors at play: couple an 11:30pm date with the fact that I'm leaving in a week anyway and you've got a recipe for implied intimacy. You have to almost expect a sexual component. Her deciding not to contact me could just be her anti-slut defence.

The next day I feel like I've crossed another hump. I'm a bit disappointed that we didn't hook up, but I'm not dwelling on it. One-itis has always been the standard for me, but it doesn't seem to be there and I can go about my day as normal.

So things are ok. Things are good. I get home from my workday and things are about to get better. I get a phone call. Hmmmmm. It's the front desk and they have a message for me. Pixie lost my number! Her phone number is included. Very cool. Tres cool. She must have got my last name from the credit card receipt from the previous night and tracked me down at the hotel.

We made plans for Wednesday evening. I agree to pick her up after work at the ridiculous hour of 12am. This feels a little bit AFC for me to agree to a time so late when I have work in the morning, but fuck, I'm gone in 2 days so it's now or never. After I pick her up, I find out that she has to be up even earlier than me for school. Haha, at least I'm not the only one making sacrifices.

We end up going to a bar downtown. It's dimly lit, but surprisingly lively for so late on a Wednesday. Conversation is good and we cover a wide range of topics. I'm really liking her. At one point I'm looking into her beautiful eyes and briefly upgrade her to an HB9. Then about 40 minutes into it, I get this from her:

"Are you a nervous or shy person?"
I'm dumbfounded for a moment. "I don't think so... you tell me"
"I don't know, it just seems like you're very careful with everything you do"


So I'm left contemplating what this means and deciding whether I agree or not. In the end, I think I see her point. I've made some good progress over the last few months and over the last few weeks especially, but a lot of the same old insecurities still exist. My body language is betraying me, no doubt.

Things start to get a bit rough at this point. I get up to buy her one last shot (she'd paid more than me at this point so I told her I'd even things out) and while I'm waiting at the bar, I strike up a conversation with some dude sitting there. I figure it's a good social proof thing to be able to just have a conversation with any random stranger. While I'm talking to bar-boy, I see Pixie get up and talk to another guy a few tables down. Now I'd learned earlier in the evening that this guy happens to have Coke on him (don't ask, it makes a long story even longer). Pixie and the dealer disappear into the bathroom and return 2 minutes later. By this time I'm sitting back at my table. Bar-boy has taken it upon himself to join me uninvited. I introduce Pixie and Bar-boy to each other. I'm pretty turned off at this point. I'm looking at the coked-up Pixie in a different way and I'm pretty disgusted to be honest. The two of them start talking. Bar-boy is AMOG'ing me. He's not being flirty, just talking a lot. At one point they start to speak French to each other. I have a fantasy about snapping his neck and lament at how society frowns on that sort of thing.

Fortunately the bar is closing now anyway. Bar-boy finds his girlfriend, one of the bartenders, and get's ready to leave. I start asking people for directions on how to get back to such-and-such highway, not trusting Pixie at all to help. When she realizes what I'm doing, she reels me in quick saying not to worry about it and that she'll give directions. We leave together and she asks if I'll wait while she has a smoke. I tell her to finish half of it and I wait with her. I don't know if she's sensing my change in attitude or not, but she's starting to act a little more affectionate. I find myself softening.

When we get back in the car, she tells me I can crash at her place tonight if I want. I don't accept the offer right away. We drive for a little while, chatting politely. As we're approaching her building, she asked, in a rather hopeful manner I notice, if I want to come up to keep chatting or anything. I say I'll come up for 10 minutes to use the bathroom and get directions. I'm still slightly irritated, but not enough to pass up what looks to be an almost certain lay.

She's got a pretty nice apartment. She shows me around briefly, asking me to excuse the mess. I peer into the bedroom and see what I can only describe as a very tall bed. Below the mattress and boxspring are basically stilts that give it more height. The bed practically comes up to Pixie's tits. If she were out of shape, she'd need a stepladder. I marvel at the bed. She says it's really comfortable and tells me to try it out. Score. I jump on it. It IS comfortable. I duck under the blankets and peer out at her, seeing if she's going to join me. Nope, not gonna be that easy.

She has a female cat, but with a boy's name. They thought she was a male when she was younger or something. The key here is that I'm allergic, and within 20 minutes, I'm starting to get stuffy and itchy. Fuckin' weak. We head back to the living room and Pixie turns on the TV. She puts some weirdo music CD in her DVD player. It's some kind of ambient mood music or something. Whatever. We putter around for a bit. I escalate the kino bit by bit. I tell her I need those directions so she sits on the couch under a blanket and starts writing them up for me. I sneak under the blanket with her. She's trying to describe the trip to me, but I'm not at all paying attention. It's almost 4am and I want to start making out with her as soon as possible. When she's done writing, she hands me the little piece of paper. I toss it haphazardly off to the side, knowing I'm going to pay for that in the morning.

I wrap my arm around her and she leans in. The topic of breast implants comes up. She mentions she’s touched some and that she doesn’t like how they feel. They’re hard like a man’s pec, she describes as she pokes me in the chest. Next she touches her own breasts and demonstrates how they have the correct feel. She invites me to feel them so I oblige and act like she’s educated me. We chit-chat a bit more. She's looking forward, out her window. I kiss her on the cheek to get her attention and to get her to lean my way. She continues to look straight forward.

“Would you like to kiss me?” I ask, stealing Mystery’s line.
“No.” Pixie says flatly.
“Ok, I didn’t say you could, just asking if you wanted to.” I reply with a smile.


I’m not as unfazed by her soft rejection as I might have been in the past. Maybe reading about game has helped in this area. Now she starts asking her own questions:

"What did you think when you saw me the first time?"
"What did you think when we were out tonight?"
"What are you thinking now?"


If this was a shit test, I didn't handle it very well. I don't remember what I said to each question, but in each case it was pedestrian and boring. I make an excuse to get up and set my alarm for the morning. I grab a drink of water. I'm doing a mini-freezeout, I think. She joins me in the kitchen. Soon we head back to the couch. She willingly snuggles up tight because it's so damn cold.

Now things start to happen:

"It's not that I don't want to make out with you, it's just where it leads that worries me"
"And where does it lead?" I ask innocently
"You know..."
"Sex???"
"Uh huh...”
"What's wrong with sex?"
"Nothing, it's just that I'm having my period"
'Dammit!' I curse internally. "So we don't have sex then."
"What?" she asks, seemingly curious that I'm so nonchalant about it.
"So we don't have sex. No big deal." I shrug casually.

A few moments pass. I lean in and kiss her on the lips. Pull back, look her in the eyes. Kiss her again, pull back, and still no reaction. A third time, a fourth time... and I break through the resistance. She starts kissing back and with a conviction I'd yet to see from her this night. Within minutes I'm carrying her to the bedroom and tossing her onto that tall ass bed of hers. We don't have intercourse; frankly I kind of lose my sexual appetite a little bit when I felt around and discovered a tampon down there, but she's still a bundle of sexual energy and great fun to mess around with.

Eventually we both fall asleep. I'm awoken later by her cat stepping on my face. It's 7am, and I have to find my way back to my hotel with the instructions from last night that I didn't pay attention to. I don't wake her, but I leave her a little note before I leave, telling her she's lovely and to be good. The drive back is full of wrong turns and my cursing of French Canadian civil engineers, but eventually I make it and the night is over.

I realize later that morning that I left my watch at her place. I call her to try to get it before I leave Montreal but we're unable to hook up. I'm back in Montreal in a few weeks, so I plan to grab it then. I have no idea whether she wants to hook up again, but I'd certainly be game and I'm still contemplating how I'm going to approach my return visit.

Ok, my Montreal visit is now over, but there's one more girl that I may as well get into.

About 6 weeks ago, I found a girl online. She's been the aggressor in most cases; she made first contact and she suggested we go out. I hooked her with my “selfish jerk” online profile. She's a super cute girl, another solid HB8. We weren’t able to find a common time to get together for the first few weeks. Now when I was in Montreal, I thought she'd blurred on me because I sent her a few text messages and didn't receive a response. When I returned from Montreal I discovered she'd texted me on my personal cell phone that I'd left behind, asking where I disappeared to. Calling her up, I found out she didn't get my messages for some reason. We talked for a good hour-and-a-half. A couple nights later, she contacts me and asks if I'm free. We make our first date.

So I see her there at the restaurant. She looks kinda old. Is this what girls my age look like? She’s 26 as well. Still, I’m not disappointed. She’s very pretty, and still a HB8. The dialog seems to come naturally for both of us, and there’s never really a break at all. I’m full of energy and find myself directing the conversation in most cases, though she has no trouble keeping up. I’m a joker all night; which is a little bit unusual for me. We’re both laughing and having a good time so I keep it up. She’s sitting across from me so I try to come up with excuses to touch her. I tell her that her knuckles look blue and then I inspect them. I mention I can read palms and then make it into a joke because it’s obvious I don’t know how. She ends up knowing more about reading palms then I do.

We’re there for 90 minutes or so. When the bill comes, she doesn’t even reach for her purse. Over the last few months, I’ve discarded the AFC mannerism of readily offering to pay, but in the case of my other dates, they offered to pay themselves so it was easy. I don’t know what to do in this case, so I pay it. This was a fairly expensive restaurant she picked, and her glasses of wine were $10 a pop so it’s a little annoying. Plus, she asked ME on the date.

As we make the 2-minute walk to my car, I ramp up the kino a bit. I put my arm around her and then push her away pretending to be offended by something she said. I hug her close to me when she complains about the temperature. The 10-minute ride to her place is filled with more talk of this, that, and the other. When we get to her driveway, I turn and look at her and I become aware that my seat is too far forward relative to hers, and I’m almost looking back at her. She says a quick goodbye and thank you and she’s out the door before I know it. I consider getting out of the car and calling her back for a hug and maybe a kiss, but I don’t do it. Bad sign. Immediately I get the feeling she’s not into me.

On my drive home, I’m starting to think I fucked up somewhere. I pass a huge accident on the highway. Dead body. Whoops. That distracts me for all of 10 seconds before I return to rampant self-analysis. Maybe I should have taken charge more when I dropped her off. Maybe my real-life personality didn’t jive with my online/phone one. Maybe I said or did something that turned her off. I definitely should have directed the topic into serious areas. I don’t think we had a serious discussion about anything. I return home resolved to give her a call in 2 or 3 days. Instead, I’m sending her a text message within half an hour. Fail:

“You took off before I had a chance to kiss you... Grr! I may withhold our trip to the Caribbean” (We had an ongoing joke about going to the Caribbean)
“Who said I wanted you to kiss me??”
Now I know I seriously fucked up. First I fucked up by not being more of a man when I dropped her off, and then by sending this text message so soon. “I make assumptions. Positive ones.” I text back. Maybe she’s just being playful, I remind myself hopefully.
“Ur an interesting guy but im not sure that im interested”. Nope. Not being playful.
“K then” What a bitch! My mind goes right back to the dinner she didn’t offer to pay for and I’m more pissed about that then I am about the rejection.


I decide I’m going to try going caveman the next day. I know she has another rare day off from work. I’m working in her area so I plan on calling and telling her I’m going to come pick her up and bring her back to my place to make dinner together and decide for good whether she’s interested or not. Alas, she doesn’t answer her phone and I see no point in leaving a message that will probably be ignored anyway. I don’t expect I’ll ever hear from her again. At least there’s no one-itis, which is a good thing obviously. I’ve got a couple new online prospects that I should move to the phone in a week or two, so that lessens the blow.

The part that worries me is the line that goes like this: “You’re interesting, but I’m not interested.” I’ve heard this, or close facsimiles of it, from women on half a dozen occasions over the years. I can build comfort, a can stimulate the mind, but I can’t seem to attract the ones I want. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’ve written this log. Hopefully I can look back at these humble beginnings in a year and smile at the progress I’ve made.


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PostPosted: Mon Mar 10, 2008 6:37 am 
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Joined: Fri Feb 29, 2008 7:26 am
Posts: 106
Firstly I think you're doing all the approaches and stuff well so you're off to a good start. Unfortunately from your post, and I did read the whole thing, is what are you after? Are you after a screw or after something more long term? If you're after a screw then I feel, and I ain't no expert, you need to escalate the kino and start getting her horny. I get the impression that you did not come across as decisive enough in the 90 minutes you spent with her. Again only you could tell what she was into. It's part of the game but knowing what a girl is after e.g. whether she wants to meet you in the weekend again for coffee or whether she wants you take her home and fuck her, is something you need to be able to gauge.

It sucks that she did not offer to pay. I have no idea how to get out of this one. You don't want to appear as a cheap skate but at the same time you don't want to be an AFC.


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PostPosted: Thu Aug 23, 2018 6:06 am 
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