#36: Go With Your Gut

1- Location: Carnaby Street

 

2- Story

Winter was finally here. Cold tendrils penetrated deep through the layers of my clothes, leaving a bloody trail in its wake in the crumpled form of a leather jacket. In its place was a red cardigan and black overcoat. I kept part of the rockstar look by opting for an aggressive, skull adorned t-shirt of one of my favourite bands plus the usual accoutrements of bracelets, rings and necklaces.

Mazz and I had been out for several hours that Saturday and had completed a few laps of central London. We had been going over the effects of winter on Daygame, how it was reducing our set count, altering our pre-approach calibration, and fundamentally changing the interactions we were getting. One of the topics we went over in detail was how you now had to be hypersensitive to female clothing; not every girl was simply walking around in a skirt. The conditions had made any kind of revealing clothing an extremely trustworthy indicator to approach.

As we reached the end of Carnaby street I saw a flash of legs in my peripheral vision. Giving Mazz the signal, I hurried back up the street and stopped Alicia. It turned out that they were white tights, but it didn’t make one bit of difference, as I teased her for aiming to distract all the passing men and then later on for her Frenchness as she was every bit the aloof Parisian.

I did some incidental kino by poking at her shopping bags to see what she got and touching her shoulder and pointing up at the lights. I then escalated to a maradona move where I looked at her rings.

On the other hand, rapport came with great difficulty, and when it was time to close, she almost scoffed. I returned to Mazz, who, coincidentally, had run into an old university friend and subsequently became high on his realisation that he had substantially grew as a man since their last meeting.

I text Alicia that evening after recording a podcast with Mazz, and her replies were again quite stilted, but she still reliably came back on my messages. She mentioned that she wasn’t working at all that week, so I took it as a sign to get her out that Wednesday. As per my date structuring plan, this girl scored on nationality and apparent horniness (hence the tights), which meant two venues and that I should push hard for sex on the first date.

We met at the overground station and she was wearing a long skirt, boots, and silky top tied up just under her boobs. My initial reaction was, hmmm, perhaps dressed to fuck. My first venue was too busy so we went around the corner to a pub and sat on bar stools. Over the next hour I worked in my verbal escalation, and managed to build a little rapport, but on each occasion she would stifle it. When I tried to talk about her “type” she look visibly offended. This isn’t something which you fully explore during the street interaction because most of it follows a sequential series of scripts which you’ve used on hundreds of girls in the past. She also had very poor body language, leaning onto the table and almost talking to me over her shoulder. At the same time I was leaning back relaxed with my hands in my lap, trying to recreate the posture my Dad adopts when he has mid-afternoon naps minus the snoring. Undeterred, I went back to some more comfort, left some silences (which she eventually filled), and got through the verbal escalation, throwing in a little more incidental kino by brushing her hand as we looked at pictures on each other’s phones. Occasionally I’d prod her shoulder when I made a point. At one point I started to think about the little bit of cleavage my greedy eyes had access to and the things I would do to her. I channeled that into my thoughts and pressed for stronger eye contact. After about 10 seconds of strong eye fucking I relented, having seen her eyes do the spasm which indicates deep attraction.

After finishing our drinks we scooted on over to Adventure Bar further up the high street (and closer to my flat). I’ve decided to start using this venue for the time being because a) they’ve extended the Monday to Thursday happy hour to midnight, b) it’s definitely a “date venue” as I could see other couples there, which helps with setting the frame, and c) it’s much darker. The other bar I was using was good, but could be practically empty, making the whole thing seem like an ambush.

Again, her posture was poor and I longingly cast my eyes around the room to see other couples where the girl appeared much more into it than Alicia was. She gave off amber signals to my physical escalation, simply allowing it to happen but never recoiling from my touch. After looking at her earrings, I went in for the kiss: she turned her head, scoffed again, and said “nice try”. Time for a recovery loop and the old “it’s my job to try etc.”. She also failed the floppy test.

We’d nearly finished our drinks and I had nearly had enough. I simply wasn’t having any fun on this date and felt like I was moving mountains just to have any kind of conversation going. I suggested a walk, thinking that I would seed the next date and drop her off at the station. I tried another kiss gambit, placing her on a step to “compare heights”, but she knew what was coming and made sure everything was done shoulder-to-shoulder. I was just about to walk her to the station and have rid of her when I remembered all of the signals I had been receiving: the sexually suggestive outfit on both the street and on the date, the eye fucking, and her amber reactions to my physical escalation. Knowing that the only reason I’d want to see her again was for sex, I decided to say “fuck it” and start walking towards my flat. She questioned where we were going so I told her, and she said how she couldn’t stay long because she had to get up early the next day. Boy did those words sound familiar…

 

3 – LMR and Sex

We sat down with some drinks and the LMR took about half an hour to bust. First I kissed her and she pulled away after a few pecks. We listened to music and I IOD’d her by looking at my phone, before going back to kissing her. Now she let herself be pulled in, and she was into the kissing more this time, so I started to fondle her boobs which were pleasantly sized. We repeated this process a couple of times and she eventually left to use the toilet.

I knew this was make or break time: she could either return and tell me she had to go i.e. Game over, or she would stay. If the latter, she was clearly putting herself in the line of fire. I imagine girls go to the bathroom to question themselves on whether they really want sex. She came back into the living room and sat down, so the next time we kissed I was a lot more aggressive and the kissing was more of a proper makeout.

I got my hand under her top and squeezed her hard nipples, before undoing the front of it like a Christmas present, stripping her off, and fucking her. The sex was absolutely average; I went for all of the standard rough sex stuff but she didn’t respond well to it. Compare that to the night before where my regular and I fucked three times in three hours to the tune of spanking, clawing, biting, dirty talk, and me slapping her in the face.

In the PSI I learned:

• She knew I wanted to fuck her when I invited her back to mine
• She’d had 45 previous partners (props to me for the full disclosure here)
  • Even though this ruled her out as a FB, I still gave the EFA that if she was horny we could “sort something out ;)”. I definitely knew that I didn’t want to see her again outside of a purely sexual situation.

The latter point made me think about a discussion Victor and I had had previously about one of his ex-girlfriends. These type of girls have horrendously high lay counts and therefore spend every waking moment testing you. They can’t trust themselves not to have sex so their forebrain throws up as many barriers as possible to derail the train, making it your job to simply sit back and let the waves roll over you. Rather than being the irresistible force, you have to become the immovable object. They are, in effect, filtering for r-selected traits at the extreme level. Biologically, they’re more inclined to have lots of children and invest much less in each.

As always, I went back for seconds so that I didn’t feel any kind of regret, and made the sign of the +1 on her back. Now, what is the sign of the +1, I hear you ask? Well, you can perform your own at home.

To perform the sign of the +1 you will require:

• A consenting female
• Two hands

Step 1, complete sexual intercourse with your female. Step 2, after ejaculating, form a cross with your index fingers into a “+” sign. Step 3, raise your triumphant right index finger into the sky. Points are obtained for altitude reached by said finger and for length of time elevated. Bonus points are be awarded for stylistic interpretations and if the girl watches you do it.

 

4 – Lessons Learned

• Trust your gut and don’t let poor body language combined with amber reactions deter you from a bounceback
• Keep your phone handy in case you need to IOD her

As far as Daygame lays go, this one was quite average. Bit of texting, couple of venues, bit of LMR and done. She was a 7, slight younger than me, the sex was average, and she would not be forming any part of Harem Mk. 3. The lay cost £11 plus a drink at mine, and took three hours to reach the close. This is lay 3 of 24 from September 2017 to September 2018.

Yours unfaithfully,

Thomas Crown