The Pick-Up Life Chronicles
Week 1:
a-great-saturday-night-left-unfinished--vt16127.html
Week 2:
a-great-saturday-night-left-unfinished--vt16127.html
Week 3:
-dual-targets-pick-up-life-chronicles-v ... 16939.html
Day 1: “I Am My Own Greatest Enemy” (Week 4)
On a Tuesday night, you’re probably wondering how I got talked into going out to the bars. And it wasn’t that hard, actually. After wasting my Friday and Saturday nights (I’m not going to get into the details), I had an aching desire to explore the possibility of new places and personalities. And so, we decided to try a new hot spot by the name of “Mood Lounge”. . .
The energy was flowing in the car, but it is lacking in the bar— there is nobody here (save for the bartenders). Then again, it is only 10:00PM, and a bartender reassures us that it is going to get slam packed. “Y’all are lucky you got here early. I don’t have to charge you cover.” That is always a nice thing to hear.
It is a common misconception to think that it’s “cool” to arrive late to the bars. But contrary to popular belief, it is actually a very good thing to get to a bar/club/party early. And here is why:
(1) Sometimes you don’t have to pay cover, as evidenced by the former conversation.
(2) You get to know the bartenders. Notice, I didn’t say Game the bartenders; simply get to know them, i.e. find out their names. This helps you get drinks quickly, which is a huge advantage in the field.
(3) You get acclimated to the environment. Most guys cower to the presence of beauty if they are not at first comfortable in their own two shoes.
(4) Finally, and perhaps most importantly, you build social proof. It is so much easier to make friends when people are trickling in a handful at a time. You can let them out of your sight, and after the bar gets crowded, reunite with them later on. Don’t believe me? Try it out yourself.
This is exactly how our Tuesday night began.
My wing on the night is fluent in Spanish, so we decide to test out a new routine: “Hey, if you had you had a friend come visit you from another country, and he was only here for a couple of days, then where would you take him?” We wait for their response, and my friend jumps in, speaking only in Spanish. Lucky for us, one of the targets is Colombian; thus, she is fluent in Spanish as well. Quite honestly, I don’t know the words that are spoken between them, but I do know that both have big smiles on their faces. What started out as half a joke actually turned into a good opener.
He opens the next set by handing off his cell phone to a girl in passing, with a text that reads, “Is it awkward that I’m texting you?” The girl is charmed by the humor in the message. He opens this set in English, but somehow maintains the other set in Spanish. This kid is on point tonight . . . Maybe he is the PUA and I am the wing. Who knows?
He manages to isolate the target from the latter set, while I escort the Colombian girl onto the dance floor. We dance for about thirty minutes or so before the unpredicted occurs— There was someone that I could not Alpha Male; someone I could not out Game; someone that gave me an inner sense of inferiority, an imposter, a charlatan— and that someone is myself. Somehow, my body sells me short. I feel like complete shit. My stomach hurts, my eyes water, and all I can look forward to is the comfort of my own bed. Whatever it is, I can’t explain it any further. I am my own greatest cock block; In essence, I have become my own greatest enemy.
No time for game; I had to get home fast! But for an inexplicable reason, she is still somehow interested in me. I quickly number close and make plans with her for Saturday. But then I play the role of Cinderella and get the hell out before the clock strikes Midnight. I’m sure she is confused by the ambiguity in my actions, but at this moment, I put me first. Consider me selfish.
I explain the situation, but my wing is not too upset that we are leaving: He already isolated and had fun with his target, so he is ready to go. Plus we both have work at 7:00AM. These weeknights are a killer!
Based on the way things ended, I would have never expected to even write about this. But she texts me the following day, “I had fun dancing with you. See you Saturday!” Even with that, I take it with a grain of salt. Women are flaky, and I gave her a reason to flake out on me. If I do not hear from her, then I will change this thread title to, “The Potential Benefits of Pepto-Bismol.” . . .Or else we continue on with Day 2. See you Sunday morning!
Day 2: The Void
I called early on in the day to make sure that she was still game for the night, and she confirmed seven hours later. I was rather upset with that, but I guess it was an accurate prediction for what was to come through the rest of the night.
Upon arrival, we had about 15 people in our group; apparently social proof comes at no extra charge. I see my target and initiate conversation immediately. But her friend is a stuck-up bitch and wouldn't let me isolate. Unfortunately, none of my wings could successfully disarm the obstacle.
It only gets worse when another one of her friends arrive. This guy is way beyond AMOG, he is just a fucking faggot and there is no other way to explain it. In case you still have questions about this guy, please reference the link below:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JMOh-cul6M
Anyway, she pulls me aside and tells me that D-bag is her friend's boyfriend. Personally, I don't care who he is. I wasn't going to waste my time hanging out with him. I walked away.
The club was overflowing with people, and I eventually lost sight of her. However, after a little bit of convincing, my wing and I open a two-set. These girls were smoking hot; (HB 9/HB 10, no exaggerations necessary). Even better, they get us into the VIP spot upstairs. We isolate them, maintain comfort, and number close through the course of the night. But I am not trying to write about any new targets today. This story is not about them. And now back to Miss Colombia. . .
I was in the midst of the starry-eyed people in VIP, but what happened to Colombia? I hadn't seen her for hours.
Later on, she walked right by without a glance in my direction. I finally threw in the towel and retained my focus on the new targets.
I thought it was over, but she texts and calls me four times later that night. It was time to freeze her out. And to avoid any temptation, my wing took away my cell phone. I was officially grounded.
To recap, Day 2 pretty much sucked with Miss Colombia. But I will eventually return the call and make plans for a Day 3.
You will be notified on what is to come. . .
CHAT