#74: One Vision

It was coming down to the wire in Prague. Time to pull a rabbit out of the hat.

The previous evening I’d had a girl flake on me for a third date. We both knew it was going to be for sex and so my guess is that the ASD had got to her. Rudely, though, since she was a no show; not even a message to say she wasn’t coming. I had stood outside Palladium and after five minutes my instincts told me she wasn’t going to show. This was a girl who’d been punctual and organised so far. I gave it thirty and no response to my messages so I left.

Luckily hope springs eternal and the next day I woke up with one mission in mind: to never ever give up. The only thing I could control was that I walked the Daygame route when the sun was shining. So I got up, out of bed, got ready, ate a little food and then hit the streets.

I let out a long breath to centre my mind and started casting my eyes about for sets. I spied one, went over and did it. It went nowhere.

Not to worry, I thought to myself, first one’s the worst one and I need to be out of the gates fast. Doing that set quickly will give me some momentum.

I walked away from Palladium and onto Na Prikope. I looked up at the fading leaves and thought about how beautiful it looked with the sunlight pouring through. It seemed that me coming to Prague had sparked autumn and the leaves had turned a shade of orange before my very eyes.

Or wait, was that a strand of hair that had fallen into my face? I quickly pushed the strand away and saw Aylin coming towards me. Very cute and very small: 155cm. Larger breasts than someone that height deserves. 19 years old. Kazakh but ethnically Russian. A seven. She smiled at me.

“Excuse me,” I said as I loomed over her. “You speak some English?”

“Some.”

“Good well you look very cute and I wanted to say hello. I like how tall I am compared to you.”

We made some conversation – which was tough given her limited English – and I suggested we sit on one of the benches which line the street.

“So you don’t get a neck ache,” I said.

The conversation faltered and so out came the Google Translate, which was used for 80% of our communication from then on. We talked a bit more – typically boring stuff – before I asked her:

“So what are your plans today?” And after a little bit of finding out what her plans were:

“Let’s meet for a coffee later.” (she was busy at the time). Off she went.

I stood up and pocketed my phone. Time to find more sets. Then I was broken out of my Zen-like trance.

“I’ll gut you you Colombian scumbag!”

“Fuck you! You’re ashamed of your father!”

Two shades of brown were having a heated debate further down the street. Looking closer I noticed that they were two Daygamers who I’d met on the trip. It’s amazing the kind of tiffs that Daygamers can get into. One of them turned and left leaving the other one with his arms crossed. I noticed who it was: the infamous Salman “PUA.”

“Hi,” I said as I walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t take too much of my time showing me his latest conquest.

“Are you the alright?” he asked in his thick Indian accent, and so I told him about my previous night’s flake and what I had to do today.

“You’ve got to make the spam today. 20 sets!” Though usually Salman spouts a load of gibberish this was one of his more lucid moments. I would need to spam today.

“Ah you’re right. I’m going to just need to lose any and all sense of dignity and open, open, open,” I agreed.

“Yes, I am always the right! Now look at this.” It was the moment I’d expected. Lo and behold Salman drew out his phone and showed me a blurry picture of some naked girl.

“Paki MILF nine!” he exclaimed.

“Ah… nice…” I said as I tried to edge away. “Let me guess you-”

“Salman only does anal, my friend,” he said, nodding slowly.

“Riiiiiiight.” And with that I headed off.

I didn’t reach the mythical 20 set figure but I did manage to do 17; quite the haul.

I sent my ping to Aylin about an hour after closing her and put in a confirmation to meet straight away, to which she agreed: 6pm outside Palladium.

She showed up on time and I was happy to see she’d changed her clothes. She wasn’t done up or anything but it showed she wanted to make a good impression.

I stooped down to kiss her on the cheek – damn she was small – and walked her over to the Cacao Cafe where we sat with a coffee for half an hour.

I could tell she was really into me. I immediately leaned my leg up against her and when I encouraged her to sit closer she did with no problems. I had a look at her earrings and she let it all happen. I talked about my own accessories and when I moved my hand forward for her to have a look she took the bait and reached out to touch them. I asked her whether it was my height that she noticed first but she said that it was my hair, and that she liked my freckles, at which point she reached out to touch my arm. Smooth sailing.

It was getting a bit colder and so I suggested a bounce to somewhere warmer (and somewhere opposite my apartment), where I had a beer.

“Do you want something to drink?” I asked her.

“No I will just keep you company,” she replied.

We talked more – Google Translated more, really – and Aylin showed me some drawings she’d made in a notebook in her bag. Some good qualification.

I wanted to see where she stood in terms of horniness and so began to play the Questions Game but quickly let it die. When I asked her what she found sexy she said she had no experience of that.

A virgin, probably, I thought to myself. Virgins can be quite compliant when they like a guy simply because they’ve had no chance to get jaded.

With my beer finished I told her:

“Let’s go upstairs and watch a film.”

She didn’t know it was to my apartment but she had no problems coming inside and upstairs. We lay on the bed and started to watch a film on my phone when I kissed her.

Funnily enough I’d had the exact conversation that week with a local Daygamer on whether I kiss girls before pulling them home. I told him that 99% of the time I did. That kissing is a major part of the seduction dance and so it needs to be incorporated. A girl knows what you’re doing by not kissing her and so you’re not getting one over her in some way. Really you’re only tricking yourself. But I guess this was the 1% of the time when I didn’t kiss her until we got back to mine. I didn’t want to burst the bubble and she had already shown enough physical interest in me. Plus I needed something to happen now and so it wouldn’t be one of those multi-date stepped escalation encounters either. There was no opportunity, or at least no point, to use kissing as a way to heat her up prior to this point either. We’d sat in two places where PDA would have been painfully visible.

I escalated a little more and she pulled back and grabbed her phone.

“I must tell you now that I am a virgin,” she typed out.

“I know,” I said genuinely.

This was the point where I thought she would begin to throw the breaks on. But she didn’t. We went back to the film and after a bit more of it I escalated again and her clothes came off. A little while later:

+1.

I think there are two ways of knowing something: logically and emotionally. Logically I knew that taking a girls virginity so quickly was possible and had heard of other guys doing it before. Though to know it emotionally – to actually feel it as a possibility – it has to be experienced. When that knowledge passed from being logically known to emotionally known I felt astounded. That a girl might be walking down the street a virgin and then she sees a guy she really likes and – perhaps subconsciously, perhaps even consciously – decides that if this guy goes for it she’ll give it up for him. Though I had very little to talk about on the matter, having already understood it logically, the feeling of knowing it astounded me.

Oh and that was Daygame lay number 50 as well.

I walked her to the metro station and said goodbye before returning to my apartment. I fell asleep and woke up to a handful of messages and two missed calls from a Croatian girl I’d opened a few days earlier.

“Can I come over to yours now?” she had asked.

I’d slept right through it.

Yours unfaithfully,

Thomas Crown